To a Time When the Fire Stops Chasing Us
by notmuchmoretosay
Summary: Season 9b onward. Oliver and the rest of Hilltop have been trying to move on with their lives after Alexandria mysteriously excluded them and all the other communities, but when old friends come knocking, warning of a new threat, everyone is forced to come together again. Tags: Bi OMC. Enid lives. Minor romance subplot. Chapter warnings enclosed. Art: @andytweed
1. Stradivarius, Part 1: Getting Old

Credit to cover art goes to andytweed on Tumblr.

* * *

'_If trouble comes when you least expect it __  
__then maybe the thing to do is always expect it.'__  
__The Road, _Cormac McCarthy.

* * *

**SIX**** YEARS SINCE THE**** BRIDGE  
October 2020**

* * *

Moonlight crawled across the carpet through the ajar balcony door, a slow fall breeze billowed the curtains, and Oliver lay awake in his bed silently debating with himself over whether he should give up his first lie-in for weeks. He could just picture it — him, lazing about around Barrington House, with nobody asking him to be anywhere and no plans to go anywhere either with all the horses taken care of and his only goal to read his day away until he went to bed again. He'd just have to close his eyes and sleep until long after the sun rose. Only, he couldn't do that.

"_Fanculo..._"

In a big frustrated rush he put on his prosthetic arm, got dressed, then tiptoed downstairs and out of the house. He even broke into a jog across the courtyard but by the time he got to the armoury trailer he was hobbling against the pain in his lousy ankle from that old break which had happened during an attack on Alexandria several years ago, which, without proper surgery, had never quite healed right — much like many other things since then. Regardless Oliver ignored the familiar pang and grabbed his weapons and supplies, and minutes later he was at the stables saddling up his trusted moody ashen-red gelding, Roan, and riding him to the front gate.

Quan, an ex-Savior who ran the distillery with his mentor, an old man named Papa Bear, was on guard at the wall with the moon haloing him and a spear in hand. By the lamp light Oliver could just make out Quan's cocked eyebrow as he peered down at him, a look on his face as if he was watching the horse ride Oliver and not the other way around.

"Fourth time this week," he said. "You gonna tell me where you're going this time?"

"Another scout," Oliver lied.

"At midnight?"

Oliver shrugged. "Jesus' orders."

Quan sucked his teeth disbelievingly but said, "Sure, man..." anyway and climbed down from his post to pull open the front gates for him. For good measure they slapped hands as Oliver rode by, and once he was outside the gates and past the vegetable gardens, he squeezed Roan on into a lope and travelled out along the driveway.

Quan didn't need to know about this, in the same way that Jesus didn't or anyone else at Hilltop. This was Oliver business ever since he ran into a group of rogue ex-Saviors —some of the last that were left— a few days ago. They'd threatened to skin him if he didn't bring an electrical saw to a particular meeting place a week later. Oliver imagined they wanted to break Negan out of Alexandria and re-appoint their original leader and bring down the new... _new..._ world order, once and for all.

He was not bringing the electrical saw.

He'd brought gasoline and a lighter instead.

After learning where they were camped in the latest few nights spent tracking them Oliver only needed now to sneak in and set fire to them all while they slept. It was all planned out. Easy. Only as he got close he saw the black smoke rising through the treetops, and when he got to their campsite everyone there was dead and charred to ash. Aware that Roan was carrying two gasoline filled canisters on either side of his saddle Oliver dismounted and led him away from the burning rubble.

As they got to the treeline someone called out, "Oliver?" from the darkness and Roan startled so badly that Oliver almost got dragged through the mud, but he was strong enough to yank him steady and twist around.

Carol stood across from them. Her long silver hair glowed against the flame light. She walked forward to show herself better, armed to the teeth, with a box of matches gripped in her hand.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"Same thing as you," Oliver answered, beginning to cough against the smoke in his chest. His eyes were starting to sting. Roan squealed and threw his head around and Carol cooed and took the reins from Oliver so that he could wipe his face and take his inhaler.

"Come on," she said, "we should get out of here."

"Got a horse?"

"A carriage. A little ways away."

Oliver mounted up and held out his hand for her. She let him pull her up behind him and then directed him through the trees, away from the fire, to a small clearing a few miles away. She shushed them as they got close to a small camp-ground where two carriage horses were tethered to a tree. A small tent was propped by the edge of a river. A perimeter fence was tied up in a large square around the camp-ground that Carol opened up to allow Oliver and Roan through. Daryl's motorbike was propped against a neglected old truck and inside that Oliver saw the pale end of Henry's nose with the rest of him asleep and hidden in blankets.

Carol put her matches in a rucksack.

She must've noticed the question on Oliver's face because she whispered to him, "They ambushed us yesterday evening. Let us go, eventually, but..."

"You did what you had to do," Oliver said.

"And what _you_ were going to do, apparently," she said, untying the gas cannisters from Roan's saddle. She set them on the floor by the truck and then stood there watching Oliver with this crestfallen expression on her face like a doe returning to her fawn only to find that instead of laying in the grass in wait of her it has gone out searching for the wolves. Oliver knew what she was thinking, that the fire and the smoke was still following them after all these years... but at least now she seemed to have somewhat accepted it.

"It's good to see you," Oliver said.

Carol let herself smile, slowly, then she opened her arms and Oliver gave himself to them in full. Just when he was about to ask what she was doing here, with company especially, Daryl himself and a German Shepard-looking dog came strolling through the clearing. The dog growled at Oliver but stopped when Daryl grumbled, "Quiet, Dog," at it.

Oliver let it sniff him. He saw when Daryl turned his back that his old waistcoat was wearing, one of its stitched angel wings had torn off.

"Since when have you got a dog?" he asked.

Daryl shrugged. "Since 'bout a year now."

It'd been longer than that since Oliver last saw Daryl and even that was only a glimpse across a deserted cul-de-sac. It'd been long enough, too, that Oliver was surprised when Daryl stepped forward and hugged him. He smelled like he hadn't showered in weeks and looked like it, too, to even better fit his legend as the local weathered vagabond. Oliver squeezed him tightly.

"What are you all doing here?" he asked finally.

"On our way to Hilltop, actually," Carol said. "Daryl, too, if you can believe it."

Oliver couldn't so he asked, "Why?"

Carol glanced at Henry, still sound asleep in the truck bed. "He wants to become a blacksmith..."

"Good luck with that," Oliver said. "Earl's a hard-ass. I'm serious. It took his own son dying for him to finally take on Marco as his apprentice."

"_Oliver..._"

He gave her an apologetic look. "Having said that, though, he is always complaining about being overworked so I'm sure Henry will have something to do."

Carol seemed over the moon and worried sick all at once. Oliver wondered if she'd felt this worried when she brought Oliver to Hilltop the first time, too, if it was any different for her now than he was then. He hoped she hadn't been this worried about him.

"You should head back," she told him, "before they miss you."

"Why you out here anyways?" Daryl asked.

Carol tapped his arm. "I'll explain later."

She looked at Oliver in that exasperated doe way again.

"Go on home," she said. "Rest. We'll see you in the morning."

* * *

Oliver returned to his room as if he hadn't left at all. Sitting on his bed he had this deflated feeling in his chest. He wished it had been him who'd wiped out the last of Negan's followers. Losing the chance was like diving off a jumping board and coming face first with concrete. He felt better when Scab, in all her grotty matted glory, hopped up onto his lap and purred. She was a great cat. One of those unpredictable ones that only wanted attention on her own very specific terms. She seemed in a good mood then, though, so Oliver laid back and pulled her to his chest and she kneaded at him while he petted her.

He must've fallen asleep because the next thing he knew the night-sky had changed to a dim, orange sunrise, its colour bleeding into his room. There was music playing from the phonograph player out on the landing. Some song about a bad relationship. Soon the song was turned off and he could hear Jesus and Tara speaking. He didn't listen to what about. Instead he reached up to his chest to lift Scab off but was met with a loud hiss as the cat leaped off of him and scurried outside through the balcony door, hackles up.

Good mood ran out Oliver guessed.

He forced himself out of bed to get changed from his dirty clothes and into some pyjama shorts and a tattered but clean _Deep Purple_ T-shirt, ready to get back to his lie-in.

Scab hissed at him from the door.

"Yeah, love you, too... dumb cat."

Just as he curled up in bed again someone knocked on the door. Oliver groaned into his pillow for them to come in and Tara stepped into the bedroom with a filled binder in her arms. Through the open door on the landing behind her Oliver could see the coffee table stacked with paperwork.

"Jesus' still won't take Maggie's old office?" he asked, begrudgingly sitting up in bed.

Tara rolled her eyes. "No. I told him she wouldn't mind, especially seeing as she hasn't said when she's coming back from Georgie's. I think that's why, though — he doesn't want to overstep."

Oliver huffed, thinking Jesus was as loyal as the connotations of his nickname.

"So," he said, yawning and scratching an itch beneath his knotted ponytail, "what's up?"

"Oh. Right. Uh..." Tara raised her knee and propped the binder open on it. Inside she spent a second looking for the right slip of paper. "Here. Kal's horse keeps throwing him."

Oliver frowned as he read. "Dolcie? That's not like her."

"That's what Kal said and he's the one with the sprained ankle. He wants you to meet him at the stables when you're ready. So much for a day off, huh?"

Oliver huffed. "Oh. I almost forgot — Carol, Henry, and Daryl are arriving today."

"What? Where'd you hear that?"

Oliver shrugged and began searching for his jeans. Despite avoiding her face he knew she was cocking an eyebrow at him in suspicion, but just like Quan, Tara was aware of Oliver's tricks and she trusted him even more so, as Oliver had hoped, she just thumped him in the arm and said, "Go to work, de Luca."

Resigning himself, Oliver meet Kal at the stables whose brief went as: "She's fine until she realises we're going to work, then it's like she turns into a wild animal or something. Crazy."

Sure enough crazy was the right word for any attempt to get the horse out of her stable. She almost kicked Oliver twice before he managed to lure her out with an apple. Then it was a case of finding out what was bothering her. Dolcie behaved while being led around and saddled up but the moment Oliver sat on her back she reared up high, like she was trying to fly, and Oliver had to leap off as not to break his leg again. After trying different strategies and acquiring another limp he finally set her loose in the round pen for a break while he thought what to do.

He and Kal watched her from the fence.

"She's just gotten lazy in her old age," Kal complained.

Oliver shook his head. "Horses aren't like people. They don't know how to disobey. Misbehaviour is always a _reaction _to something wrong."

Kal looked at him like he wasn't sure if he was joking.

An idea smacked Oliver in the forehead. He stepped over to Dolcie and, much to her displeasure, stuck three fingers in her mouth to feel along her long rough teeth and smooth warm gums. He told Kal to hold her still while he poked around the toothless gap on each side of her mouth. She squealed and stomped her hooves suddenly and Oliver pulled his hand out and shook off the drool and bits of hay.

"Thanks, girl," he said. "Thanks, too, Kal."

"Wait... why did you just do that?" Kal said.

"Back in a sec." Oliver disappeared into the shed to find a pair of reins. Upon return he explained, "It's not the work she doesn't like..." He fastened each end of the reins onto the sides of Dolcie's halter. "...it's the bit," he added, raising his finger horizontally in front of his mouth.

Kal just stared as Oliver mounted up and rode around the pen.

Dolcie didn't flinch.

"How?" Kal stuttered.

"She's got a sensitive mouth," Oliver said, petting along Dolcie's long, dusty, snow, white neck. "All this time, she's just been in pain."

"Oh... poor thing."

Oliver dismounted and gave Kal back his horse, telling him, "She's getting old. It happens. Just stick with the halter bridle from now on and you'll be fine."

Kal looked thrilled. "Appreciate it."

He rubbed Dolcie's head.

"Guess it's not time for your retirement yet, huh, girl?"

"She's still got some fire in her."

"You're telling me."

"I'll give her a check-up in a few weeks," Oliver said. "She might need to have some teeth pulled if the soreness doesn't get any better."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to it."

Oliver gave him an agreeing nod. They both turned when a commotion was heard near the gate. People were running across the courtyard to see what was happening. Someone among them yelled, "Go get Dr. Cholle!"

"You got her?" Oliver asked Kal, glancing at his ankle.

"Yeah. Go on."

Oliver made his way over, aware that his own ankle was aching badly. Enid ran across the courtyard and almost knocked right into him in her rush. He followed her towards the gate where Jesus and Aaron were carrying a very weak and filthy Rosita inside the walls—

Oliver stopped—

He hadn't seen Rosita or Aaron in years—

When he snapped out of his own head he followed them towards the infirmary trailer. Jesus was sorting the IV equipment and Enid and Aaron were easing Rosita onto the hospital bed. Because Oliver was spotted he was ordered to collected towels from the airing cupboard by Aaron, who put them under Rosita's head.

Oliver was speechless.

"Where'd you find her?" Enid asked.

"A couple miles out," Jesus said, "collapsed in the road. She told us she was with Eugene, but they got separated."

Rosita was barely conscious. Enid tended to her head wound and told Jesus what to do with the IV. Aaron was trying to get Rosita's attention but she was muttering things—

"There were whispers and I was afraid..."

"She needs rest," Enid insisted. "I'm giving her a sedative."

And soon Rosita was still and steady and sleeping.

* * *

It was a tense reunion with Aaron — "Oliver, you know I wanted to get back in contact, we all did. But after what happened, you know how Michonne..." "Look, Aaron, I know. It's fine..." "I know it's not..." — and Oliver was already anticipating as tense a reunion with Rosita whenever she woke up, too. It was a relief when Carol, Daryl, and Henry finally rolled in. Oliver was saddling two horses for Tara and Aaron who were heading out to search for Eugene. Oliver wasn't joining them because of his lousy leg, which was hurting too much to ride on yet.

Dog bounded in through the gates first, barking madly. Enid's Border Collie, Bean, rushed over to see who the new dog was. The interaction began with raised hackles and growling and quickly dissolved into nose licks and Bean rolling over onto his back and in moments they were sprinting at top speed through the trailers together and off along the orchard.

As Oliver headed over to everyone Daryl threw an arm over his shoulder in greeting. Carol got down from the carriage and Oliver hugged her, too. Henry got down a moment later, almost as tall as Oliver now at eighteen. Oliver grabbed him in a half-hug-half-wrestle which Henry was way too strong for nowadays. Oliver stopped when he was handed the reins of Tara's horse, Lunar, so that she could have her turn in greeting everyone.

Jesus hugged them all next. "Heard you were coming."

Carol gave Oliver a small knowing glance before smiling at Jesus.

"Henry's taken a stubborn interest in blacksmithing," she said.

Jesus beamed at her. "We might be able to help with that."

Carol and Oliver unharnessed the carriage horses and took them to some empty stalls. As they got the horses settled Oliver asked their names and Carol, grinning ear to ear, said, "This one's Fido, and that one there is... actually, he doesn't have a name as far as I know."

Oliver pouted, his hand on the horse's rump, before christening him, "Flax."

"Flax?"

"Short for Flaxen, like his coat."

"Oliver, you can't name every horse after their coat colour."

"At least it's more creative than 'Dog'."

Carol laughed and gave Flax a firm few pats before exiting the stall. She watched the busy courtyard for a few seconds. Her face fell when she spotted Aaron leave Barrington House to greet Daryl.

"What's he doing here?"

"Not just him," Oliver said gravely, "Rosita, too, and Eugene. Rosita was found this morning all banged up. Enid's looking after her in the infirmary, but Eugene... he's still out there. They're headed out to find him now."

Carol looked like she might've yacked.

"I should... err... bring Aaron his horse," Oliver said.

She waited for Oliver to get the piebald mare out before asking him in a slightly distracted voice, "So, uh... what's this one's name? Patches? Oreo? Perhaps something a little more creative... like Yin-and-Yang?"

"Gemma," Oliver said. "I didn't name her."

Carol seemed to appreciate something to laugh about.

As they walked over to the others she noticed his limp and frowned.

"Don't worry," Oliver told her. "I'm just getting old."

She tutted. "Oh, please, you're barely twenty-four."

Oliver smirked and raised his eyebrows at her. Carol tutted again. As they got to the others Aaron, Tara, and Jesus were telling Daryl and Henry what happened to Rosita and Eugene.

"We could use a good tracker," Jesus added to Daryl, who glanced at Carol.

"Go," she said.

Oliver sensed that a deal had been made between them both but couldn't tell what it was.

"Then I'm going, too," Henry chimed in.

"No," Carol said calmly.

"Mom, but—"

"No, come on. Let's get you settled."

"I'll help," Oliver offered her. "Just give me a second to see these guys off."

Carol nodded and left for the house with Henry. Oliver waited around with the horses while Jesus tried to convince Tara to exchange places with him which eventually she agreed to on grounds that he would move his things down to Maggie's office when he returned — "It's great listening to Georgie's records every morning but it's getting way too cluttered upstairs... deal?"

"Deal," Jesus said.

Daryl started his bike, calling Dog to come, and as he led the way out of Hilltop Jesus and Aaron galloped along behind them.

* * *

'_Freeze this frame.  
__Now call down your dark and your cold and be damned.'  
___The Road, _Cormac McCarthy._

* * *

**Notes**

Jk call up your light and your warm and be blessed.

Been a while. Thanks for reading. I appreciate it infinitely.

Disclaimers and fyi's (no need to read lol):

In case you didn't know, Quan and Papa Bear are both canonical characters in the show, but super minor. There's a reason I'm mentioning them, too, but more on that later.

Both quotes from the start and end were from 'The Road' by Cormac McCarthy. My favourite book. And while I was writing this (October to December 2018) I was studying McCarthy for a module at uni. Had to give a presentation which I almost flunked, write an essay which got me a 69%, and write a creative piece based on his work which I got an 80% on. Feel like that sums me up well: Shit at speaking, ok at typing depending on if it's fact or fiction; perhaps ghost writing is my calling? Commissions open lol

Horse lingo for those who don't know = a 'bit' is the metal part of the bridle that sits in the naturally toothless gap of a horse's mouth.

Most of the horses in this were named after my current/previous pets.

Realised recently that I named Scab subconsciously after Scabbers, Ron's rat in Harry Potter.

The song about a bad relationship was 'April Skies' by Jesus and Mary Chain (same one as in the episode).

The horse, Dolcie, wasn't supposed to be a metaphor for Carol but she sort of ended up having weird parallels: fire, kinda old, underestimated, and capable of causing bodily harm. I'm ok with it tho.

And God, it's so weird that for the first time in my life Oliver is actually older than me. In real time though he's actually meant to be a month younger than me exactly.

Thanks for reading,  
have a nice day.


	2. Stradivarius, Part 2: Michonne

**Dampish **Thank you, thank you, so much, your support is more than anything I could ever ask for. Cannot express. Just know I appreciate you so much.

**fandomismylife **Thanks for checking in. It means a lot! And omg thanks I fixed it. I just got done rereading the books, too, so I should have realised sooner and now I'm embarrassed lol.

* * *

_We three, we're all alone  
Living in a memory  
My echo, my shadow, and me_

_We three, we're not a crowd  
We're not even company  
My echo, my shadow, and me..._

* * *

Oliver was in the middle of helping Henry unpack into a spare room a couple doors down from his own when the guards' warning carried through the house from outside.

"Riders! _Riders are coming!_"

They dropped everything and ran downstairs and outside where people were scattering in from the vegetable gardens to take shelter behind the walls. The gate closed after them. Oliver limped towards the gate. Henry and Carol were already ahead. Dianne, up on the main guard post, watched something through binoculars.

"Who are they?" Tara called up.

Dianne turned down to her, her stern face pale. "It's Michonne…"

Without warning Oliver felt the air leave his chest. This was the cherry, he felt. The cherry on top of a wholly unexpected and disturbing day. It had been six years since he'd last seen her. Six years since he rode two days from the Kingdom after hearing of the birth, premature — he'd been devastated over missing it. He remembered arriving to the gate going nuts with excitement... but nobody would let him in. He could still remember hearing Michonne's voice from the inside, ordering him to turn back alone.

Dianne looked through her binoculars again. "There's five people I don't recognise. Siddiq's there, too. And DJ."

DJ was an ex-Savior, Oliver was pretty sure, just like Quan, Papa Bear, Alden, and a few others at Alexandria, like Aaron's adopted daughter — Gracie, and Laura, and Frankie, Negan's ex-wife, and her adopted daughter Alice or something, and another younger guy who Oliver couldn't remember the name of.

It wasn't a nice feeling to forget names, or faces, but these days Oliver couldn't remember much about Alexandria at all. He'd spent so long trying to forget.

Oliver stood very still while he waited with everyone in the courtyard for Michonne's group to park their carriage outside the gates, hearing Michonne's voice for the first time since that awful devastating day.

"Some of your scouts informed us that Rosita was here," she called out. "Siddiq, DJ, and I have come to get her."

"And the rest of you?" Tara asked down to her.

"They're good people looking for a home. One Alexandria can't offer, but one Hilltop might."

Oliver could only see the back of Tara's head but knew she must've looked furious. She told them to leave their weapons and then the gates were opened and Michonne and Siddiq lead the way inside on foot. Tara, Enid, Alden, and Oliver met them. They stood across from each other, meters apart that felt like miles.

"Where's Jesus?" Michonne asked.

"Out with the search party looking for Eugene," Tara said.

"Eugene's missing? Since when?"

"Thought you would know," Tara said.

Michonne narrowed her eyes.

Awkwardly Siddiq cleared his throat. He caught eyes with Oliver and smiled slightly. It was difficult to return the smile but Oliver did.

"How's Rosita?" Siddiq asked.

"She was mostly unconscious when she got here," Enid answered, "but she'll be fine. It's dehydration and heat exhaustion, mainly. She should wake up soon."

"If she's asleep, how do you know Eugene's missing?"

"She told Aaron and Jesus," Tara answered. "before she passed out."

"What were _they_ doing together?"

"They were out training yesterday. They found her."

Oliver could see Michonne's jaw clench.

She sighed steeply. "And Aaron's... here?"

"No, he's out with Jesus and Daryl," Tara said. "Daryl arrived this morning with Carol and Henry."

Michonne's eyebrows rose.

"I know," Tara said menacingly. "It's like the 'old gang' is back together again."

Oliver glanced at her and then Michonne opposite.

She sighed. "Which way were they headed?"

"You won't catch them before nightfall," Alden said.

"It's Daryl," Tara reminded impatiently. "Probably on their way back already. You'll have your weapons back when you leave tomorrow. As for the rest of you... you'll have to wait until Jesus gets back. He makes the decisions. And if he decides you stay, you'll have to earn your keep."

One of the strangers with tight, curly, black hair stepped forward. She brought her fingers to her chin and gestured them outward in thanks. Oliver recognised the sign language from his deaf friend, Juni, from Kingdom.

A younger, lanky, masculine-looking girl with short, kinky, black hair stepped forward and translated: "She says 'thank you'. We all do."

"Okay," Tara said. "Get their horses settled, Oliver."

As she walked away Oliver hid a wince under his hand. He didn't want to deal with this. Enid gave him a small assured glance and then she, too, left with Alden's arm around her shoulder. For several seconds Oliver stood there alone with Michonne, Siddiq, DJ, and the five strangers awaiting his instructions.

"So, err..." He fidgeted and found it astoundingly hard to look at Michonne's face. Instead he turned his attention to the strangers'. "Who are you guys?"

A tall woman with bushy, pale, brown hair and tattoos stepped forward.

"I'm Magna," she said. "This is Yumiko."

She gestured to a stern-looking woman who appeared of Asian decent with long, tangled, black hair pushed back behind a bandage with a small bloody spot on it.

"Luke..." He, short, stout, bearded, and wearing a tattered old blazer, waved.

"Connie, and Kelly." Connie, the signer, smiled while Kelly, the lanky one, raised her chin in greeting, and Magna added, "And you?"

"Oliver," he answered. He looked at Michonne's shoes —it's the best he could do— and gestured his head. "Let's go get the horses."

* * *

While Magna, Yumiko, and Kelly were more reserved, Luke and Connie became the more conversationalist ones in their group. Luke took one look at Oliver's t-shirt and asked if he enjoyed music and Connie seemed to like Oliver after she caught him whispering compliments into one of the horse's ears. This was only embarrassing because she could read lips which meant someone on Earth now knew Oliver called his horses, "Sweethearts," when no-one was listening.

Oliver avoided Michonne as well as he could but eventually she managed to corner him while he was filling one of the stall's hay troughs — dust in the hay always messed with his allergies so in the middle of a bad sneezing fit Michonne took the large wad of hay from his arms and helped him spread it inside the trough. The carriage horse ate greedily between them.

"How are you?" Michonne asked, standing between the horse and the exit so that Oliver didn't have anywhere to go.

Oliver searched for something easy to say.

"Busy — with the fair coming up." He knew Alexandria had refused to attend under Michonne's authority and he pretended not to notice the sudden stoniness in her face but he had to admit to himself, it felt good to hit a nerve. It's what made it easier to ask, "How are you? And Judith? And..."

Oliver had never learned the baby's name. Only a rumour that there'd been a boy. Realising this, too, Michonne opened her mouth and then shut it, awkwardly. Once upon a time Oliver suspected he would've taken pity on her but by now it was too late for that. He hated her for what she did to him. To all of them. Alexandria against the world. And for what?

_Heartbreak doesn't heal because you show up uninvited,_ he wanted to shout at her. _Reality is much harsher than that._

"I named him Rick, Jr," Michonne said suddenly, "but... we call him RJ, for short. And Jude. She's gotten so big and strong. She wanted to come with me when she found out where I was going, but... well, I didn't know I was going to come all the way here."

Oliver looked at the ground feeling as though she was dangling them in front of him like she had that day she didn't let him in. Bitterly, he returned the treatment she had given him then, and didn't speak any more to her. Michonne's chin shook and she shut her eyes and then opened them again. Without speaking, and forcing a smile, she left the stall and joined the others in collecting the rest of the supplies from the carriage.

Oliver spent the rest of the day avoiding her and instead tried not to let his sour mood spoil his time with Carol. Later Henry joined them after finishing his first day of work. They ate dinner together like some normal family and it felt nice.

The next morning Oliver was so eager to see the backs of Michonne and her group that he woke up early to prepare their carriage. It meant he had time to prepare Carol's return convoy to Kingdom as well but to this Oliver was less eager. Once finished he chose to postpone the rest of his stable chores in order for everyone leaving with the convoys to have the time and space to load up their respective carriages, as well as avoid another uncomfortable conversation with Michonne. He visited the blacksmithery to see how Henry was doing. Henry was in the middle of collecting some equipment from Earl's workshop to donate to the repair of Kingdom's boiler room, which had been on its last legs for a while now, and together he and Oliver took everything to Carol's carriage which was now waiting by the gate.

Dianne was joining her back to Kingdom. This was surprising to Oliver because Dianne hadn't returned there since Leviathan, her son, had died during a Savior attack some seven years previously. Oliver was glad for her, though. She and Carol seemed like good company for each other. Carol turned and frowned when she saw the crates in his and Henry's arms.

"What's this?" she asked.

"I talked Mr. Sutton into an advance on my pay," Henry explained. "Got us some nails and screws for you to take home. And Oliver wrote down some ingredients to make remedies for the horses."

"It's all herbs that you can find this time of year easy enough," Oliver said, "to add to their feed. Help keep their strength up in prep for winter."

"Oh, you didn't have to do that," Carol told them, her voice suddenly high and her eyes damp. She hugged them both tightly and then wiped her face and called them her boys and laughed. As Oliver stood back Carol stroked Henry's jawline and told him to keep out of trouble.

"I'll be back for the fair," he said.

"Mm-hmm."

"I'm gonna make you proud."

Carol tutted and said, "You already have."

With a final fond look at them both she climbed into her wagon and waved as she and Dianne drove away. When they were gone Oliver elbowed Henry in the side.

"Come on, man. We've got jobs to do."

* * *

With the stables empty of people again Oliver cleaned up a few bits of neglected equipment and finished chores — mucking stables, filling water troughs and hay troughs, grooming, feeding, training. At noon while he was sponging down a horse after a workout Enid arrived from the infirmary with Bean to ask if he wanted to catch lunch in the cafeteria together.

"Sure," Oliver said. "I'll just get this done real quick."

"Cool," she said. "I'll go see if Alden's taking his break yet. We'll meet you there?"

"Yep."

She was already there when Oliver arrived several minutes later, sitting at a bench outside with the sun on her back and a plate of chicken, eggs, and potato in front of her. She was alone except for Bean who was curled up in the shade under her seat, his single periwinkle eye flitting at passing shoes and his tail thumping as Oliver sat and put his bowl down.

"No Al?" he asked, scratching between the dog's ears absently.

"No Al," Enid answered. "Him, Marco, and Earl have their hands pretty full training Henry."

She gestured her head to the blacksmithery. Oliver pushed up his glasses to bring the blur into focus. Henry was standing at the furnace. His face was glowing against the flame, sparks scattering. Alden, watching over his shoulder, noticed Enid and Oliver looking and waved to them. Marco noticed, too, and flipped them the bird and stuck his tongue out. Snorting, Enid and Oliver turned back to their food.

"Reminds me of you when you first started out here," Enid said. "Weird how fast the years go by."

Oliver hated thinking about time. It made him nervous. Enid looked at him funny and he realised he was cringing so he stopped. She snorted.

"So," he said to change subject, "how are you and Al?"

Enid nodded, mouth full. "Good, I think. You know me. I've always been clueless with that stuff."

"What stuff?"

"Relationship stuff."

Oliver hummed and threw his head back. To the sky he mumbled, "So long as he makes you happy, and, as far as you can tell, you make him happy, too, that's all you can really ask for."

Enid hit him.

"Ouch! What was that for?"

"You shouldn't say things like that."

"Like what?"

"Sweet things," she said. "It doesn't suit you."

Oliver grinned at his food.

When they were done eating, they took their empty plates to the wash area.

"You're limping again," Enid said.

Oliver shrugged. "Nah. Give it a few days, it'll be fine."

"Can I take a look?"

Oliver wanted to roll his eyes but because he knew how this would end he skipped the argument and simply followed her to the infirmary trailer. Bean waited outside bumping his tail against the door. Siddiq was inside sitting with Rosita, who was asleep again.

"She doing okay?" Enid asked.

"Yeah," Siddiq said. "She ate a little while ago."

Enid got Oliver to sit on a metal bed. He took off his boot and rolled up his jeans' leg and removed his ankle brace. Enid crouched before him and took his foot in her hand.

"It's swollen."

"Yeah," Oliver said. "Another flare up."

"I'm gonna give you some cream that should help with the inflammation."

She found a small pot and Oliver applied its gooey contents to the sore area. It made his ankle feel like it was heating up from the inside. She was right, it did help. She also got him to do a few strange stretches before finally telling him to rest for the remainder of the day.

"I'll go to the stables now," she said, "let Oscar know you're out of commission until tomorrow afternoon at least."

"Thank you, Dr. Cholle," Oliver said.

Enid shot him a glare and then pointed to the door. "Rest."

As Oliver left, chuckling, he swore he heard Siddiq tell Enid he was proud of her.

* * *

Since he wasn't allowed to work at the stables the next most useful thing to do with his afternoon was helping out Ms. Maitlin and her cooking crew in the kitchen. This was something everyone chipped in on when they had the time. Downstairs in the scullery kitchen Oliver helped wash, peel, and chop potatoes for dinner. This counted as rest since he was sitting down at the sink and double counted since the kitchen was the only place in Hilltop he knew only the locals went. In the evening when Ms. Maitlin dismissed him Oliver read in his room until everybody was called to eat. He sat outside at a bench with his food, enjoying his book, until—

"Can I join?" Henry asked.

Oliver jumped out of his skin.

"Sorry." He moved his foot off the seat next to him for space. "I was miles away."

"_Shocker,_" Henry said. "Why are you alone?"

Oliver shrugged. "Just reading. People usually leave me to it."

"Oh. I can go if—"

Oliver snatched Henry's sleeve. "Shut up, idiota. Sit."

Henry may not have been strictly local but at least he wasn't Michonne or the five newcomers. Plus he was Oliver's brother at this point which meant he had this weird automatic pass when it came to invading personal space for whatever reason.

Henry sat and ate while Oliver ate and read.

"Oliver?"

"Hmm?"

"How serious are Enid and..."

Oliver looked up from his book, then back at it. "Alden?"

"Yeah."

Oliver made an _'I don't know'_ noise and said, "Serious enough, guess."

He pretended not to notice that Henry's face was turning a vibrant shade of maroon.

"Guess I was just surprised..." Henry trailed. "Well, you know."

Oliver figured that he did know so he said, "Chin up. Read a book. Ride a horse. You'll feel better about being single."

"Is that what you do?" Henry asked. "To feel better about being alone?"

"I'm not alone," Oliver said, affronted.

Henry raised his eyebrows.

"Single and alone aren't the same thing," Oliver added, "and unlike you, I actually _want _to be single."

"Whatever, man."

Snorting, Oliver knocked knees with him. They went on eating in peace until eventually Henry left to clean his plate. Oliver, who was still reading, eventually caught up with him at the wash area with his book tucked away in his hoodie pocket. Henry was drying his plate, smiling about something.

"What?" Oliver asked, grabbing the washing liquid.

"Just got invited up there..." Henry pointed to the timber balcony across the courtyard where Gage, Addy, and Rodney, also known as the three most rambunctious teenagers in all Virginia, were hanging out together. "Want to come with?"

"Err..." Oliver did not want to. He already acted like a crotchety old man, especially with this janky leg. Hanging out with teenagers sounded like a nightmare. Plus he knew Henry was only being polite so Oliver elbowed him and said, "Thanks, man, but I'm good. Have fun."

Henry left.

While washing his plate Oliver thought about Enid and Alden and what Enid had said about being clueless. It made him think back to his own relationship with Carl years ago. It had been a mess, after all. The good parts were good, no doubt, and Oliver had loved him, deeply, but one minute they thought each other were dead and in another they were being kidnapped, or beaten, or abused, or shot, or bit, or separated, or getting into arguments over stupid things that they forgot about afterwards. He often wondered if things would have gotten better, or rather, less complicated, if they'd had the time to grow out of their adolescence together. He liked to think so, because now as an adult Oliver didn't have the energy for it anymore.

Oliver considered visiting the infirmary to check on Rosita but the thought of Michonne being there stopped him at the door. As he turned around, however, the trailer door burst open behind him and threw him to the ground. Rosita landed on top of him, shouting in Spanish. Oliver staggered to his feet and helped her up. Before he got much chance to ask what happened she pushed past him towards the courtyard. He, Enid, Michonne, and Siddiq chased after her.

"What's going on?!" Oliver asked.

"She wants to go after the others for Eugene," Enid said.

"Why? I thought they were coming back soon."

"No," Rosita muttered, in the shed now behind the stables searching for the right saddle. "We have to help them. No entiendes!"

"What don't we understand, Rosita?" Siddiq asked gently. "No tienes ningún sentido."

"The walkers," Rosita insisted. "They hunted us."

"Yeah," Siddiq cooed, placing a hand on her elbow. "We know. You were running for a long time..."

"No! They were _hunting_ us," she shouted, eyes wild as she shook him off. "They... They were _whispering_..."

* * *

_What good is the moonlight  
The silvery moonlight  
That shines above?_

_I walk with my shadow  
I talk with my echo  
But where is the one I love?_

_We three, we'll wait for you  
Even 'til eternity  
My echo, my shadow, and me..._

* * *

**Notes**

Song was "We Three" by The Ink Spots. Nice little throwback to the grove, but also fitting for Oliver's journey imo.

Weird fact: while I was in uni, studying creative writing, a white kid I knew thought it was weird when anyone wrote afro hair as 'kinky' and boi needed to wake tf up so anyway I'm using the word more now out of spite lmao

**I vow to do better by Enid than the show did. I've done a shitty job so far, too, so here is where she gets what the fuck she deserves! i.e. fulfilling arcs, with gallantry, heroism, strength in gentleness and femininity, as well as pain, angst, and suffering, and an archetype better than 'the love interest... **_**with a sprinkle of medical doctor (that was only a thing to further Aaron's arc)**_**'.**

As always,  
Happy reading.


	3. Evolution

**Dampish** thanks! Yeah I am so sick of flashbacks. I even tried to write them but fuck they're so dull sometimes. Flashbacks, like dream sequences, are only relevant when they are NEEDED but rarely they are. And yes, there is a bit of romance soon, I tried to make it as interesting yet realistic as possible given Oliver's character. Hope you enjoy it when it comes.

**fandomismylife** man that is so nice of you to tell me, thank you, I like to think in five years I've picked up a few skills even if I doubt them every day lol really though thanks, it's really comforting to hear it from someone. And yes, Enid deserves the fucking world.

* * *

_A/N: __I r__e-wrote the whole __Stale M&M's __story__. __A__ll five_ _b__ooks__. Every __single __chapter. Updated it over the last few months. Finally finished it today. The plot has changed __a bit__. And if you want a list of the changes see my profile, __notmuchmoretosay__. It's a long fucking list. I've only had the time to even do it all because COVID-19 self isolation has given me the time, but considering it's a worldwide pandemic I'm not all that glad about it. Stay safe. Look after yourself. Be kind to yourself and to those around you._

**Anyway, enough of real-life apocalypses, and onto fictional ones...**

* * *

_When the revenant came down  
We couldn't imagine what it was  
In the spirit of three stars  
The alien thing that took its form..._

* * *

While Siddiq and Enid brought Rosita back to the infirmary Michonne rode out to find Eugene's search party. Despite Oliver's reservations he wanted to ride with her but she wouldn't let him because of his leg — as well as the unseeable ten-foot thick wall between them even if she didn't say that part.

With malicious compliance Oliver remained at the stables.

Once Michonne had left, Yumiko and Magna, who had overheard everything going on, came over while Oliver was standing outside Roan's stall. Magna crossed her arms and stepped forward and Roan —who was even more aggressive than Scab— swung his head round to bite her but Oliver caught his muzzle in time to divert teeth.

Magna jumped back. "Shit!"

"He doesn't like strangers," Oliver explained flatly.

She looked at the horse, then Oliver, and in a very unimpressed tone said, "A running theme around here."

Oliver didn't say anything until he realised he was proving her point.

"Can I help you?" he asked, hoping he sounded polite but he mustn't have because Magna narrowed her eyes.

"Michonne shouldn't have gone alone," she said.

Again Oliver didn't speak. He just raised his chin, irked. Yumiko stepped forward then, frowning.

"What is it with your people against hers?" she asked him. "One minute you're travelling two days cross-country to see each other, offering room and board to strangers at their request, and the next minute you're refusing to look each other in the eye. It's absolutely bonkers!"

"I'm not letting Michonne go alone," Oliver cut in.

Yumiko scoffed and then frowned in confusion.

Oliver rolled his eyes. "If you must know, I'm waiting for her to get far enough away not to turn me back when I catch up with her."

Magna blinked in surprise, uncrossed her arms, and popped a hip. Yumiko cocked an eyebrow and smiled.

"Well," she said, "suppose we'd better get ourselves tacked up then."

* * *

The three of them followed Michonne east. It was easy not to be spotted because a thick mist had begun bleeding through the undergrowth. It covered the ground around their horses' hooves and by the time Michonne's tracks had led them off-road Oliver had to dismount and lead his horse so that he could track her better. Yumiko and Magna kept watch as they rode alongside him.

"What's with all the fog?" Yumiko asked.

"A storm's coming," Oliver answered.

"Oh, bloody brilliant," she sighed. Magna pulled a face at her.

Farther through the woods they eventually came to a cemetery. Oliver hated this place. He came here occasionally to hunt. Sometimes he swore he could hear them, the dead, deep down in their own graves. He'd even had nightmares about it.

Near the driveway in a small fenced pen they found Michonne's tall bay horse. It was skittish and struggling against its tether with its head high and ears pricked to listen to something. Oliver listened, too, but heard nothing except the forest-noises around them. For some reason it gave him this strange claustrophobic feeling like he was totally surrounded. The trees and the fog were closing in and whispering to him. He put Roan inside the pen and took out his hunting knife. Magna and Yumiko hitched their horses to the fence.

"Shouldn't you be carrying something a little... more?" Yumiko asked, unsettled, too. Oliver glanced at his knife, then at her bow and Magna's vast sheath of throwing knives along her leg.

"We don't really have guns anymore," he admitted. "No ammo."

"I got that," Yumiko said, "but don't you think one old hunting knife is a bit lacking, considering?"

"Maybe," Oliver said, but felt too embarrassed to say that he had grown somewhat useless with most melee weapons like spears or swords or machetes — spears were too heavy for one hand and swords and even his old red-handled machete wasted too much time to re-sheath after use, slowing him down and potentially putting him in danger if he needed to use his hand quickly. At least with a hunting knife he had more range to do other things with his hand at the same time, even if it wasn't the most confidence-encouraging weapon when dealing with anything more than one rotten skull at a time.

Yumiko seemed to sense Oliver's discomfort because she chose against finishing her point.

"Come on," she said instead.

Oliver nodded, leading the way and working hard not to limp as the three of them followed the wall around the cemetery. A dog was barking in the distance inside the cemetery. There were walkers inside, too — not under the ground but above its surface instead, in the mist, moving towards the noise. Yumiko, Magna, and Oliver kept their heads down and soon got close enough to hear Daryl, Jesus, and Aaron fighting the herd.

"Eugene..." Michonne was ahead, outside the gate. "Eugene!"

"Oh my God," Eugene said back, "am I happy to see you. The gate's obstructed by topsoil erosion. We can't get out."

"I need you to push," she hissed, and then Magna, Yumiko, and Oliver were there. "What the hell are you doing here?!"

"Earning our keep," Magna said.

She and Oliver got to digging while the rest of them pushed and pulled. When the gate was open wide enough they got Eugene out and Jesus sent Aaron and Daryl on while he dealt with the oncoming stragglers.

"Jesus! Come on!"

"Paul!"

"I got it!," he said. "I got it!"

And it all happened so quickly. He slashed one through the head, knocked back another, and then it just... _went wrong._ One of the walkers. It woke up. Before anyone could react it went from slouched and ambling to dodging under Jesus' knife and driving its own up and through the back of his ribs.

"_You are where you do not belong."_

For a suspended moment Oliver watched as Jesus stared in shock up at the sky, then fell to the ground in a heap. Aaron screamed and barged through the gate. The rest of them followed him. Some of the walkers shambled on and others, more chillingly, fled, while a few just stood very still and watched. Terror, shock, and confusion stopped Oliver in his tracks until suddenly one walker ran straight at him, a long dagger wielded, and out of reflex as the dagger came down Oliver raised his prosthetic arm in defence. The blade came through the gap in his hook and stopped short of his throat. His body remembered who it belonged to again then and he shoved the walker backwards, causing it to trip and fall. Oliver rushed forward and stabbed it through the eye.

It screamed.

And then it didn't.

Oliver glared at it, mouth agape, thinking he was in a nightmare, thinking he needed to wake up. He didn't have time to wonder how it was all possible because another walker was shambling his way. It died the way a walker was supposed to die, growling and thrashing. Another walker came at him then. Oliver was quick enough to knock its knife out of its hand with his prosthetic but he wasn't quick enough to dodge its weight colliding with his chest. It pinned him to the ground and clenched its hands around his throat and then it leaned close to Oliver's choking face and whispered in his ear, _"Die and live in death..." _and with a sharp whistle it suddenly grunted and collapsed to Oliver's chest with an arrow embedded in its skull.

Oliver rolled over, shoving himself free.

He turned to see Yumiko with her bow raised.

"Thank you," he gasped out, clutching his neck.

She nodded and quickly unquivered another arrow, drew it against her chin, and shot across the graveyard. The rest of the walkers were running away. Oliver was breathless and watching them go. Jesus laid on the ground before him, his glassy eyes gazing up through the fog. Aaron knelt by his side and cried.

"These... walkers," someone heaved, "what... are they?"

Dog hadn't stopped barking.

Oliver wiped his face. He couldn't stop crying. He moved over to the walker that had charged him first and knelt to it, then slid his knife beneath the strange gap of skin on its nape, cut it away, and revealed another face underneath.

"Guys," he said breathlessly.

Magna stepped over and snatched the skin-mask from him.

Shrill whispers surrounded them.

"_They're trapped. _

_Circle 'round. _

_Don't let them slip by. _

_Keep them together."_

With the gate to their backs and rain starting to fall on their heads the walkers and whatever laid beneath shambled in the mist through the graveyard, some with knives drawn and others not.

"_You die now," _one whispered.

Oliver couldn't tell which.

"Go," Michonne hissed, "now!"

Adrenaline numbed Oliver's leg as he sprang for Jesus. He was already cold as ice. To stop his Turn Aaron pushed a blade through his temple. They both lifted him by the shoulders and threaded themselves through the gate while Daryl and Michonne watched their backs, taking out oncoming walkers. Some of them growled when they were put down while others grunted and screamed.

They bolted the gate and ran for their lives.

The horses were where they had left them, soaked and shivering. The rain had beaten the fog away by then and the morning sun was fighting its way through the overcast, shining weak beams of light onto the muddy ground that flittered away quickly before anybody could touch them. Oliver tried to blow his sweaty hair out of his eyes. His leg was killing him. He gripped Jesus' chest. Rigor mortis was setting in. Somehow it made him heavier. As the others helped get the horses Yumiko threw down the walker mask Oliver had shown them.

"Who the hell would do this?!" she barked. "Who would even _think _about doing this?"

"I suspect some vessel filled with a chunky salsa of abnormal impulses and metastasized rage," Eugene said.

"They weren't dead," Oliver growled, aware that his ankle was starting to crunch with every step. "They were... pretending."

"It's full-on batshit," Magna said.

Daryl noticed Oliver struggling and said, "I got him," as he pulled Jesus' stiff arm over his own instead. Oliver nodded in thanks and hobbled on after them all.

"How many more do you think there are?" Aaron asked.

"I don't know," Daryl said furiously. "Too many."

"So, what do we do?" Yumiko asked.

"We keep moving," Michonne answered.

Daryl's bike and Aaron and Jesus' horses were still a few miles away so Magna and Yumiko shared the horse Magna rode while Eugene rode the horse Yumiko rode, on account of his broken leg, and Aaron led Michonne's horse with Jesus bent forward over the saddle. Oliver rode Roan to take pressure off his ankle and Daryl and Michonne took the lead on foot while Dog ran on ahead.

As they travelled Daryl kept glancing back to check nobody was following them. His eyes occasionally lingered on Magna and Yumiko.

"How'd you find them?" Oliver asked Michonne eventually.

She double took at him because, Oliver guessed, out of everyone, he was the last person she expected to start a conversation with her.

"Judith," she answered. "They were out there in trouble and she helped them, vouched for them."

Oliver almost laughed. Was it a curse, he thought, or a blessing, to never ignore a cry for help, to harbour the stubbornness of a bull? He still didn't know. Not with Carl and not now with Judith. It had remained a mystery to him for almost a decade. To Michonne, too, by the small, abiding smile on her face.

"It's gonna mean a lot to them," Michonne went on, glancing to Daryl. "Bringing him back. Burying him."

In the silence Michonne looked down at the ground.

"Thank you, Daryl," she said, "for looking for Rick, and... for everything after."

Oliver hated not knowing what she was talking about. The 'everything after' was a secret only she and apparently Daryl, too, now, knew about. Oliver knew it had something to do with why Michonne shut the rest of the world out of Alexandria. He couldn't help but wonder in the most immature and insecure parts of his mind if it was something he did or something he _could_ have done or was supposed to do but didn't. He knew, rationally, that it can't have been, but it was still a thought that kept him up at night sometimes — a thought that had slowly filled him with resentment for years.

Daryl put his hand on Michonne's shoulder, then walked ahead without a word.

A mile or so later Dog started barking again. Roan, too, became unsettled and danced along the road, ready to bolt. Oliver wasn't sure if it was because he could sense something wrong or because Dog was just setting him off so he sat deeply in the saddle and tried to steady him, a cold paranoid sweat prickling the back of his neck.

"Is it them?" he asked before he could stop himself.

"Let's find out," Daryl said. "Good Dog."

There were six of the dead following them.

If any were alive nobody could tell.

After scrounging up a plan they arrived at a nearby bridge and waited at both ends. At the nearest end Michonne and Oliver managed to hide out of sight while at the furthest end Daryl, Yumiko, and Magna stood and waited. Once the horde were all on the bridge Daryl shot one walker and it didn't flinch, so he shot another and it collapsed and wailed and got eaten by the others. Two didn't partake and turned back but Oliver and Michonne were waiting. Michonne stabbed the closest when it drew a knife and charged and the second, much smaller, staggered back in shock and dropped its knife. Oliver could tell it was a young girl but he wasn't stupid enough to be gentle as he forced her hands down behind her back. Daryl tore off her mask. Her hair was dark and matted and there was dirt on her face and dark, muddy rings around her eyes, nose, and mouth.

"Please!" she wailed. "Please don't kill me."

"How many?" Michonne ordered.

"Please, you killed them all. It's just me now!"

"I don't believe you!" Michonne shouted, and as she pressed her bloody blade against her throat the girl sobbed desperately.

Other walkers were coming.

"There ain't no time," Daryl said. "We'll take her with us."

They got the girl to her feet and threatened her not to try anything. Together they ran for the horses. Aaron said he and Jesus' horses weren't far and Daryl said the same of his bike so they hurried to find them through the trees, then began their escape, and by noon they were home-bound and traumatised.

* * *

_Then to Lebanon, oh, God!  
The flashing at night, the sirens grow and grow  
Ooh, history involved itself  
Mysterious shade that took its form  
Or what it was!  
Incarnation, three stars  
Delivering signs and dusting from their eyes..._

* * *

**Notes**

RIP Paul "Jesus" Rovia.

Song was "Concerning the UFO sighting near Highland, Illinois" by Sufjan Stevens. Gotta admit, I'm finding it way harder to search for fitting songs when the story isn't a romance. I think I listen to too many love songs. Recommendations are appreciated!

'Tacked up' is British for saddled up, for any of you that might not know.

Also, I love writing a British person. I am a British person. With Yumiko I can let my Briton come out at full force! Think this is why I'm only writing poc/lgbt novels, too. Also sorry that I write about teenagers in an old-person way despite being gen z (barely). But I can't help it, you all terrify me, and Oliver agrees. Too much bloody energy. All the heartbreak. So resilient. You'll change the world while my withering twenty-three-year-old form has already begun fraying at the seams.

As always,  
Happy reading.


	4. Adaption

**fandomislife **Yeah, the last chapter had a lot of set-up for future events, so not much effort went into changing stuff up from the show yet, but there is a little in this one especially at the end, and yes, definitely, Oliver does have a lot of development with Magna's whole group, but I don't want to spoil. Oh! I'm so glad I'm not alone in feeling this, like my handful of younger cousins are absolutely enthralling to chat to, and they're unabashed and so much braver in every way than I ever was at their age. Thanks and glad you enjoyed!

* * *

They kept their heads down as they approached Hilltop. It was easier not to look people in the eye when they were already busy noticing Jesus' corpse on the back of one of their horses. Oliver hobbled through the front gate leading the girl in Roan's saddle, now bound and blindfolded. Enid crashed into him. Out of breath she asked if he was alright and when she tried to fuss over his ankle he pointed to Eugene instead.

"His leg is broken..."

With Magna's help Enid took Eugene to the infirmary. Oliver learned soon that, since he'd left to follow Michonne, another small search party of Marco, DJ, Alden, and Luke had gone to search for them all and so far only Marco and DJ had returned.

Being back was miserable. It was impossible not to feel emotional over what had happened in the last few hours. Jesus' death was like a doomed omen. Oliver didn't know what was going to happen next. Someone got started on digging Jesus' grave. The girl was moved down to the cellar where she was locked in one of the cells. Oliver was left to tend to the horses who were all shaken up and in need of some valerian root and lavender mixed into their feed bowls to help calm them down. Due to his leg Oliver could only take one bowl at a time and had to hop to and from each stall. He wished Henry would given him a hand just to have him around more than anything. He couldn't spot him at the blacksmithery and, when he thought about it, he hadn't seen him at all since he got back. As Oliver finished feeding the last horse he intended to go and ask Earl where Henry was but was distracted by raised voices across the courtyard.

"Did that girl kill him?"

"No. One of her people."

"You locking her up?"

"We're getting answers."

"And then what, Tara?" Tammy Rose asked. "Jesus trusted you, so we're all looking to you now. But people are gonna want justice for this. And when that time comes we're gonna look to you for that, too."

"I know..."

Tara, Daryl, and Michonne disappeared into the cellar. Oliver limped over and hovered outside, out of the way of any watching eyes, and tried to listen to the interrogation but the girl spoke too quietly for him to hear her. Nobody left the cellar after half an hour. Bertie spotted Oliver at some point, assuming he was keeping guard, and came over to talk to him.

"You hear about Henry?"

He shook his head, dread prickling.

"He's down in one of the cells, too," Bertie elaborated. "Been in there all night."

"Why?"

"Don't ask me," she said. "All I know is that he's got minimum sentence for drunk and disorderly behaviour. He's on day one of two."

Oliver's shoulders deflated. "Of course he is..."

Bertie shook her head and hummed in agreement.

"Thanks for letting me know," Oliver said to her, and as she left he considered confronting Gage or Rodney or Addy, who he didn't doubt were all involved, but knew it wasn't worth it. Finally Michonne, Daryl, and Tara left the cellar and none seemed surprised that Oliver was waiting.

"What did she say?" Oliver asked.

"She said we killed them all," Tara said. "That she has no name. She said she doesn't know anything about Hilltop or the other communities."

Michonne shook her head as if she was trying to shake away a bad thought.

"I don't trust a word coming out of her mouth," she said.

"We'll get the truth out of her," Daryl told her.

"We try again in the morning," Tara said.

Michonne sighed. "You'll have to do it without me. I'm taking my people back first thing. Can't risk them not knowing about this back home."

Oliver watched her with that same bad thought in his own head, too — the thought that more people were going to die over this girl. He nodded to himself.

"I'll head to the Kingdom," he said. "They need to know about this, too."

Tara sighed and nodded. "Someone has to. We can't radio them since the booster went down." She stepped over to Michonne. "Thanks for being here, and for helping us," she told her. "That group you brought in. I'm gonna let them know they can stay. Guess it's my call now. It's what Jesus would have done."

Michonne left for the infirmary. Daryl kept watch over the cells. Tara and Oliver headed for Barrington House together.

"Thank you, too, for today," she told him. "When will you leave?"

Oliver yawned. "I'll go after the funeral later."

"You should at least find some time to eat and sleep first, rest that leg."

"I will."

"Good," Tara said.

"Don't worry about me," Oliver said. "You've got enough to deal with right now."

Tara stopped and turned to him so quickly that, had it not been for Oliver's slow pace, he would've tripped over her. She hugged him tightly. Oliver hugged her back.

"You're going to do great leading this place," he told her.

Tara inhaled sharply, making his shoulder cold. Her long breathy, "Thank you," was warm. She went on inside but Oliver didn't because he'd spotted Enid and Marco sitting at a bench near the gate cleaning a large pile of spears.

Oliver went to join them, yawning so fiercely that his eyes were swimming by the time he'd hauled his bad leg over the bench chair. Enid gave him a concerned look but it didn't last long. She seemed too distracted. Oliver suspected that Siddiq was taking care of Eugene for her on account of her worry over Alden.

"He'll be okay," Marco told her, proving Oliver's theory. "DJ and I made it back fine. Al and the new guy will, too."

Enid just continued to rhythmically polish the same spot on her spear handle with a cloth. Oliver didn't say anything. Anything he had to say would only be unhelpful anyway unless it was a lie and he was terrible at lying to her anyway. Instead, spotting someone's half-eaten breakfast bowl, he asked, "Do you mind?"

"All yours," Marco said. "I lost my appetite anyway, since… sure."

Oliver ate, relieved that Marco had ended his sentence. A few minutes later Brianna came over with a plank of wood and a carving knife.

"Would you mind, Oliver?" she asked, her eyes damp. "For Jesus?"

Oliver pushed up his glasses and nodded. Brianna gave him the plank and carving knife, then left.

"Is it true?" Enid asked him. "They were pretending to be dead?"

Oliver just nodded. Marco inhaled and cleaned his next spear a little more vigorously. Finally when they were finished Marco got up and collected the half dozen or so spears in his arms.

"Thanks for the help," he told Enid, patting her shoulder once. She nodded. Marco bumped Oliver's fist. "See you around, guys."

Oliver nodded to him and watched him go back to the blacksmithery. It wasn't a few seconds later when Enid got up suddenly and began to pace in front of the bench with her head in her hands. Oliver watched her, helpless. He considered offering to go out and look for Alden himself but knew he needed to reserve his energy for travelling to Kingdom. He hoped she didn't try to go out and search herself. She couldn't even ride a horse let alone track, and what if she came across the masked people?

Oliver shivered.

It was as if she could hear his thoughts — without looking at him she grabbed his hook and squeezed it assuringly, then left for the trailers without a word. Oliver wasn't sure if it was a good choice to stay and not go after her but he chose it anyway. He laid the wooden plank on the bench, carving knife in hand, and took a deep breath. While he carved alone Scab strolled over and rubbed herself along his ankles and then hopped up onto the bench to watch him work. He asked her why he was such uno stronzo and she blinked at him slowly and purred. She looked up suddenly. Daryl and Henry were headed over. With a bothered flourish of her tail Scab hopped off the bench and disappeared behind the chicken coop. The hens clucked at her curiously. Daryl and Henry sat at the bench with Oliver and watched the diggers work in the graveyard while Oliver carved these words:

_Paul "Jesus" Rovia_  
_Protector, Leader, and Friend to Hilltop_  
_198__3__ — 2020_

Oliver blew away wood carvings and examined the plank. He felt Daryl's hand on his shoulder and had to turn his face away to stop him seeing the tears streaking down his face. Henry, oblivious to this, squinted ahead of himself.

"Does alcohol always make you feel this bad?"

"No," Daryl said. "But acting stupid does. The hell were you thinking anyway, going off at night with them kids, drinking as much as you did?"

"I wasn't thinking..." Henry sighed. "Fresh air's helping though."

"Don't get used to it. Two minutes and your ass is going right back in there."

Henry turned to him. "Seriously?"

"Earl says you got one more night," Daryl answered. "So you got one more night."

Henry apologised. He talked about how he knew who he was at the Kingdom and that here at Hilltop he had no idea anymore which, to Oliver, sounded more like a spoilt-brat way of saying that he was just too used to being treated like a prince. Carol was a good mother, sure, but after losing her daughter Sophia and then Lizzie and Mika and then having Oliver essentially do the equivalent of move out at seventeen she had spent the last several years never letting Henry out of her sight.

Oliver decided he couldn't listen to him complain anymore. Henry was driving him mad. He was too exhausted and depressed to be empathetic right now so he got up, propped Jesus' finished headboard against the bench seat, and went inside Barrington House.

* * *

Oliver slept for the rest of the morning until Jesus' funeral began. Enid came to get him. Alden and Luke weren't back yet and her eyes were puffy and red as consequence. Oliver put his arm over her shoulder as they went downstairs, his tattered, orange, duffel bag hanging from his other elbow filled with enough supplies, clothes, and food to last for a two-day stay at Kingdom — he wanted to avoid using Kingdom's food while he was there since they were already struggling to prepare for winter. The ride usually took him around half a day but he knew he could make it there by sundown if he and Roan kept up the pace.

Scab followed them to the graveyard, curious as to where everyone was going. Jesus' funeral was starting. Enid was crying into her sleeves. Once everyone was gathered they took turns nailing down the coffin lid. Some said small goodbyes or sang while others didn't say a word at all. As their lost friend was lowered into the ground people passed around a shovel and placed scoops of earth over the coffin until finally Paul Rovia was laid to rest.

Afterwards Oliver went to the stables to prepare his horse. Scab was in the stalls hunting mice in the straw. Daryl and Dog came by at some point, disappearing up into the feed loft. Oliver didn't bother them, figuring Daryl needed some privacy after Jesus' funeral. As Oliver tacked up his horse Michonne arrived to load her truck-carriage. Aaron helped her. He looked in a bad way after the funeral, too. He talked to Michonne about things he didn't understand before Jesus' death and how he was sorry that he never accepted the dangers out there, even after what happened with Jocelyn and her children.

Oliver frowned at them.

Aaron sighed and left to get Siddiq, Eugene, and Rosita. Michonne stood alone at her carriage holding the door tightly. Oliver watched her, wondering how much it had to have hurt her to hurt everyone else like she did, wondering what terrible things could ever happen to a person to make them do that.

So Oliver asked her, "Who's Jocelyn?"

Michonne twisted around like a deer caught in headlights. She opened her mouth, stuttering, then Dog came bounding down from the loft above the stables, barking frantically as he chased Scab across the courtyard. He came scurrying back moments later with his tail between his legs and four thin claw marks across his nose. Daryl came downstairs and told him, "That's what you get, dumb Dog."

"Tell me you weren't having a nap up there," Michonne said, changing conversations like snow in warm water.

"You mean the penthouse suit?" Daryl said. "Dog picked it."

Michonne grinned but it didn't last long.

"Alden and Luke should've been back by now," she said. "Could be nothing. Could be something. You know what you're gonna do with that girl?"

"Why is this even up to me?" Daryl asked.

"'Cause you're the best judge of character I know."

Uninterested in her opinions on people she'd barely spoken to in six years, Oliver tethered Roan outside the stalls, left his duffel propped against the wall, and asked Daryl for the cellar keys.

"You wanna talk to Henry?"

Oliver nodded.

"Here," Daryl said, "be there in a minute."

Oliver nodded, then left without looking at Michonne.

Inside the cellar the girl scuttled to the back of her cell.

Oliver ignored her.

"I'm leaving for a few days," he told Henry.

"Where?"

Oliver glanced at the girl's cell, picking his words carefully. "You know where, man. And you know why."

Henry nodded. "Are you going to tell them I'm in here?"

Oliver knew by 'them' Henry meant 'Carol and Ezekiel'.

"I might," he said, "if it comes up — but I'll try to keep it to the important stuff."

"Little harsh."

"Little harsh?" Oliver asked, and laughed. "Really? Can't you just _try_ thinking about someone other than yourself for once?"

Henry began arguing and as Oliver argued back he wondered if his own late brother, Patrick, had ever found being an older sibling so unbelievably insufferable like this, and for the first time in his life he felt like all those noogies, nut-taps, and wet willies were totally deserved.

Daryl came down then.

Oliver and Henry shut up immediately.

"Hey," Daryl said to Oliver as he took back the keys, "stay a minute while I talk to her?"

Oliver nodded and stood back, giving Henry one last reproachful glare as he came to the bars of his cell.

"Daryl,"Henry tried.

"Keep quiet," Daryl hissed. He went to the girl's cell and watched her. "Who are you?"

She didn't speak so he unlocked the door and went in. Her eyes were wide and bloodshot. She was shuddering all over.

"You wanna die," Daryl said, "is that it?"

"Daryl, what's your problem?!" Henry yelled.

"Quiet!" Daryl bit back.

"Henry..." Oliver said gently, sympathetically figuring that it was only fair for just one person to be stern with Henry at a time. Henry scowled at him anyway.

"People up there just buried a good man," Daryl went on to the girl. "And they are ready to string you up right now. All I gotta do is drag your ass up them steps. How many in your group?"

"I already told you—"

He grabbed her and pushed her against the bars. "_How many?!_"

"_Ten!_" she screamed. "Ten, there were ten of us! I think. We don't have names — I mean, we did, but we don't use 'em."

"How long you been out around here?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. We move around with the dead. The skins make them leave us alone. They protect us so we protect them."

"You got a camp? Walls?"

"Walls?" she asked, out of breath. "Walls don't keep you safe. Places like this don't make it. They never make it. It's how it is. My mom and me, we saw it happen over and over. I... I barely remember the world before all this. But my mom, she told me how it was changing, how we had to change with it, how we needed the dead and each other to keep safe. We're never alone."

"Why'd your people kill our people?"

She didn't answer.

Daryl drew his knife. "_Tell me!_"

"We were always gonna kill you, okay?!" she cried. "It's just what people do now. Everybody still alive is a threat. It's us or them."

"How many people in your group?"

"I already—"

"_The truth!_"

"It is the truth!"

"Don't lie to me!"

"My mom!" she sobbed. "It's just my mom. She's a good person. Please don't go looking for her. She's just one woman out there, alone."

"You said your people are never alone."

"She... She was at the cemetery. She got separated, but just her."

"Liar!"

She begged him not to as he dragged her towards the cell exit and she begged Oliver to help her but he just stood back and Henry was shouting for Daryl to stop and then Daryl did. The girl scampered to the back of her cell again and Daryl shut and locked the door behind her.

"I thought I told you to stay _quiet_," he growled at Henry.

"She's just a girl."

"You're staying here for as long as it takes for you to wise your ass up."

Daryl stormed up the steps and out the cellar and Henry called out to him, but gave up. He looked at Oliver. Oliver looked at the girl. She was sobbing and hugging herself.

"Oliver," Henry said.

Oliver shook his head. "See you in a few days, dude."

After checking out his weapons Oliver went to the stables and fastened his duffel behind Roan's saddle. Enid came to say goodbye. She told him to be safe and that she — well, she didn't finish her sentence, and then Oliver left Hilltop, riding a little way back from Michonne's convoy until, at the end of the road, her carriage turned one way and, nodding civilly, Oliver turned Roan the other way.

* * *

Several miles later while cantering through a large pasture, Oliver pulled Roan to a sudden stop when he heard something ahead. Something dead was growling and someone alive was shouting. Oliver's chest sank, then flew when he saw two palomino horses he recognised. Blondie and Strings.

"Get!"

As he galloped closer he spotted Alden and Luke. Luke was cornered against a tree by one walker while another crawled at his feet. Steering Roan with his only hand Oliver swung his prosthetic arm hard, cracking the hook through the first walkers' head. Its body flew sideways. As Oliver turned Roan back Luke was able to kick the second walker away while Alden ran over and stabbed it through the eye with his spear. He helped Luke up.

"Jesus," Luke said, patting dirt off his blazer. "Thanks, man. Hey. You're — You're Oliver, right? With the _Deep Purple_ t-shirt?"

"Yeah. That's me."

Luke grinned this tired crooked grin like he knew he was almost a meal a moment ago but was determined not to let it ruin his mood. "Speaking of music, _we _were _just _speaking of music..."

He gestured between himself and Alden who rolled his eyes.

"Hey, you play any instruments?" Luke asked.

"Nothing anymore." Oliver raised his bloody prosthetic arm to convey the reason why. "Unless you count a kazoo or a janky sounding guitar."

"Ha! I absolutely do! You sing?"

"To myself, I guess."

Luke hooted and cocked an eyebrow at Alden. "Let's make it a three-man band, huh? Symphony of Awesome, _a Trio_?!"

Luke looked at Oliver's puzzled face and then Alden's exasperated one.

Luke waved his hand. "You guys can think about it."

Alden and Oliver exchanged amused looks. Luke smiled, pleased with himself. He was holding an arrow and moving it like those composers in orchestras and then he stopped and looked at the arrow again as if only remembering he had possession of it.

"This is Yumiko's," he said.

"You sure?" Alden asked.

"Well, she and—"

"Yeah," Luke said over Oliver, "I'm sure. I've seen her build about a-hundred of these."

"Yeah, she—"

"And there's another one," Luke said over him again, walking away to grab it from the tree trunk. "Okay, okay. So, she's leaving these for us to find. This is a trail."

"Eh, or just a couple stray shots," Alden said.

"Well, money where your mouth is, we find a couple more of these that lead to our people, you're gonna sing with me and Mr. Deep Purple Kazoo here at the fair." Luke began smacking the arrows together. "You better warm up those vocal chords."

"Alright," Alden chuckled, "we'll see."

Oliver barely had a moment to cut in.

Finally he blurted over their bickering, "Yumiko is at Hilltop!"

They both turned and looked at him.

Luke made a nervous noise in his throat. "What?"

"She's with everyone else," Oliver said, "except you two. Guys, why are you still out here?"

"We got cut off by a herd," Alden said. "It kept us out all morning. We only just got around it a little while ago. We were headed back when Luke saw the arrows, then some stragglers caught us off guard, and, well, you know the rest."

"Wait, hold on," Luke said, raising the arrows in his hands, "if Yumiko is back already, what are these doing here? Were you guys out this way?"

"Nowhere near," Oliver answered. He looked around, gut wringing. "We should get out of here," he added, feeling that closing in claustrophobic feeling again like back at the graveyard. "They could have followed me. Or they could be following you."

"Oliver, dude, who?"

"The Whisperers."

* * *

There wasn't an option to continue on to Kingdom on account of the huge herd in the way. Instead Oliver accompanied Luke and Alden in tracking their way back towards Hilltop while also keeping as far from the arrows as possible. They kept up a steady lope fast enough to tire out anybody following them — assuming the Whisperers didn't ride horses or drive in vehicles, but not so fast as to tire out the horses too quickly. Still even in the evening October chill and under the shade of the trees Oliver felt a creep of sweat trickle down his spine. Roan, too, had white foamy sweat building under his saddle and along his shoulders, with anxious froth dripping from his mouth. He could sense how afraid Oliver was and Oliver hated that he couldn't help it. He'd never felt this afraid of the dead. It had been the living who Oliver had learned to be most fearful of. And now both in one?

"They must've taken Yumiko's arrows from the cemetery," Oliver said to chat the stress off as he slowed Road to a trot. "I don't know why though."

"Maybe to confront us?" Alden said.

"Why not just confront us outright, instead of planting arrows?" Luke asked, petting Strings' shoulder. "You said it yourself, right, that it was only one woman now?"

Oliver nodded, feeling better at Luke's words, until Alden huffed and said, "Yeah, one woman _without her daughter._"

Alden nudged Blondie on to be level with Oliver and his horse.

"You guys were at a cemetery?"

"We were attacked there," Oliver answered. "Jesus, he... We buried him this morning."

Alden's eyebrows arched. He looked at his saddle for a minute, overcome with grief until he looked up, eyes welling, and asked, "Is Enid okay?"

Oliver swallowed the lump in his throat. "Waiting for you, man."

Alden looked at his saddle again and smiled like this had been the best news he'd heard all week. Oliver peered at Luke on his other side.

"You and your people can stay," he told him. "Tara made the call."

Luke smiled his wide crooked smile again. Oliver felt himself smiling back. He stopped when he looked ahead. There was a figure shambling forth. Oliver's chest froze. He, Alden, and Luke stopped their steeds and watched it.

"Al," Oliver whispered, ready to cling to Roan for dear life and bolt. "Throw your spear at it."

He did. The walker went down with a snarl, the spear erect through its head and the ground like a flagless pole. Luke and Alden looked at Oliver, who shook his head. It can't have been a Whisperer. It wasn't carrying a weapon and it didn't grunt or cry out or try to dodge. Alden rode over and plucked his spear out of the walker's skull. They looked around and saw no more movement so Oliver nudged Roan into a hurried canter and the three of them rode on to Hilltop.

* * *

**Notes**

So, I realised Oliver knew too much to simply walk into Alpha's trap. But I couldn't have him _not_ run into Luke and Alden either or he'd be caught against that massive herd near Kingdom (which now I think about it is an interesting story in its own...) *regrets and doubts decisions* anyway, so I'm changing things up a bit. Hope you enjoy what's to come. It'll still follow the show but with some differences due to Alden and Luke not being kidnapped.

Gonna be honest, I disliked this episode, especially the dialogue. For 1. The scenes with Michonne and Daryl made me wonder if the show forgot how to be subtle, and 2. Although Judith's actor obviously is amazing at her craft, I didn't like how the showrunners wrote Judith as a hybrid of Rick, Carl, and Michonne. For a while it felt like they were portraying her not as an individual, but as fan-service, with the hat, the gun, and the sword, and her general moral compass personality. From what I see most people liked it though and to be honest even I warmed up to her _**a lot**_ by the time of the s9 finale. For real though her father's gun would destroy her wrists and/or give her a flinch for life — then again, it's a show about zombies so who's to say Judy hasn't got wrists of steel.

P.S. Luke is one of my favourite characters. I like to think that he chose to ride Strings because he appreciated the string instrument reference except he doesn't know Oliver only named the horse that on account of its similar coat colour to string. I'm not sorry but also sort of sorry that I find that funny.

As always,  
Happy reading.


	5. Omega

**Dampish (chapter before last) **thanks, yeah, it's imortant to me that his physical imparements are reprisented since they're a huge part of who he is at this point. I still catch myself saying hands sometimes by accident lmao

**fandomismylife **yeah, too much time, unless this self-isolation things can stop anytime soon there'll be a chapter a day until I've caught up. Glad you're intruiged. I almost had it be Enid and Luke out there, but Enid can't ride a horse, and I have some plans for her yet, so I let Alden keep his place. Damn, Henry was so annoying but that was the point I think. He was meant to be the doting hopeless romantic. He's like that guy in 500 Days of Summer, like to me he just seemed to have this romanticised, unrealystic idea of Lydia but I guess they didn't have to go too much into that considering.

* * *

_CW: Mentions of past sexual abuse._

* * *

_All I see is zombies  
Walking all around us  
You can hear them coming, they come to take your life  
You can hear them breathing, breathing down your spine_

_All I see is zombies  
Hear them screaming at her  
They can smell your money  
And they want your soul  
Here they come behind you  
Try to stay alive..._

* * *

They arrived home by the evening. Enid ran over from her herb garden before they'd even made it through the gate. She and Alden fell together, all breath and tears. Daryl came over and squeezed Oliver's knee.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Cut off by a herd," Oliver explained. "Big one. Sounds like it's headed for Kingdom."

Daryl chewed his lip and groaned under his breath. "Tara, Kal, and Quan went out looking for Luke and Al earlier, too."

Oliver sighed as he dismounted his horse, wondering why nobody could stay put for one minute. The dread just wouldn't end. "They still gone?" he asked.

Daryl nodded and Oliver caught a glimpse of fear in his eyes under the curtain of dirty hair. Daryl hid this quickly and turned to Luke. "Your people went out, too, for you."

Luke scratched his forehead. "Back soon, or?"

"Let's hope so."

Luke nodded worriedly. Oliver felt like he should've said something to make him feel better, as Luke had done for him earlier, but before he could think of anything Luke wandered off for Barrington House alone.

"I let Henry out," Daryl told Oliver.

"I thought he had another night."

"Yeah, well, he started running his mouth to Lydia about Kingdom."

"Lydia?"

"The girl. It's her name." Daryl shook his head. "Henry hasn't got a clue how dangerous she could be to us."

After an exchanged nod, Oliver left with the three horses for the stables. He and Oscar set them loose in the round pen to roll and wind-down for the night and then he left to look for Enid in the infirmary. Inside it was empty. Oliver headed outside. An odd shuffling noise drew him around the back of the trailer to the edge of Hilltop where Oliver found Enid and Alden squashed against the wall together, faces mashed, hands wandering.

"Oh!"

They startled. Oliver apologised and turned to leave only to walk face-first into the trailer corner with a grunt. He hurried away, clutching his nose. Enid rushed after him.

"Oliver, wait!" she called out.

He only stopped and turned to her once he was out in the courtyard, a safe distance away from what he'd just walked in on.

Enid brushed loose hair behind her ears, cringing. "I'm sorry, we—"

"No need," he said quickly. "That was my fault. I should have figured —I don't know— that you'd... missed each other."

"No, no. I mean, yes, I guess, erm..." She rubbed the blush from her cheeks. "Thank you," she said finally, "for bringing Alden home."

"He was always coming back."

She nodded and pocketed her hands. "I just think... well, it sounds like things could have gone a lot differently if you hadn't shown up — you know?"

Oliver shrugged.

"It must've been a hard decision to make," Enid added, "to not keep going to Kingdom."

Despite the anxiety in his chest Oliver smiled at her. He felt glad for all the words he'd never had to say to her.

Alden appeared, hanging back and looking sheepish.

Oliver cast a nod to them both. "Have a good night, guys."

And Enid huffed a small laugh and waved to him before turning and taking Alden's hand, and together they disappeared off behind the trailers again.

A few minutes later while getting dressed in his room Oliver heard people cheering from outside and went out onto his balcony to see what was going on. To his relief Tara, Quan, Kal, Yumiko, Magna, Connie, and Kelly had returned. The gates were shutting behind them. Quan spotted Oliver watching them and waved up at him. Oliver smiled and waved back, finding it funny when he saw the way Luke was swamped by his friends — like gulls on a fishing boat. They must've all really loved him. Oliver went back inside, crossing his fingers and preying Carol was safe. He knew Kingdom would've already taken protective measures against the herd but even so they were struggling enough as it was.

Exhausted, Oliver got into bed. There was a nice song playing from the phonograph player out on the landing and eventually Oliver began to dream of it. And then he dreamed of someone's mouth on his skin and their hands through his hair, bodies tangled, until...

He awoke out of breath and sweating.

Night noises rang in his ears.

He sat up. He checked under his bedsheets.

He rolled his eyes at himself. "Dio mio..."

The embarrassment wore off quickly once he realised his dreams were his alone, if not an unprocessed result of what it had been exposed to recently. One dream couldn't ever be considered an accurate representation of his desires, could it? Who had he even been dreaming of? In all honestly he felt more relieved not knowing. He grabbed a few tissues off his bedside table and tried to think of other things. A breeze came in through the open balcony door. It made him shiver. Scab was sitting out on the banister handrail silhouetted against the moonlight with her head aimed down at a conversation going on in the courtyard below.

Stiff and aching Oliver crawled out of bed, changed into some clean pants, and went out onto the balcony. As he leaned over the stone banister he spotted Henry and Daryl standing below near the porch.

"I heard you and Lydia talking," Henry said to him. "Did someone used to beat you up, too?"

Daryl didn't answer, just stood there glaring.

"Once, I asked my mom why she kept her hair so short," Henry went on. "She said when it was long her first husband would grab it when she tried to get away. He would pull it and slam her against the wall, so one day she just cut it all off so he couldn't. And I guess it took her this long to feel safe again. Sometimes you act like the type of guy who slaps people against walls, but I don't think that's it."

"You shouldn't listen to people talk," Daryl said.

"Look, I know Lydia's people are bad but that doesn't mean she's bad at all," Henry said. "She's just scared. You can show her there's nothing to be afraid of. You can do that. And only you."

"No. Not just me."

Daryl disappeared inside.

Henry must've been able to sense Oliver listening, or maybe Oliver just kept his balcony door open often enough that it was an easy guess. Either way Henry looked up. Oliver didn't have time to hide but briefly attempted to, dodging backwards, before giving up and stepping forth and peering down at him.

"You shouldn't listen to people talk," Henry said, so Oliver flipped him the bird. He waited for Henry to laugh and shake his fist back before he snickered, left his balcony, and followed Scab back inside his bedroom.

* * *

Oliver finally felt something close to well rested the next morning. His leg, too, was back to its normal, bearable, old ache. Life even felt something like it had a few days ago. Like routine he did chores at the stables with Oscar. The dust and straw made him sneeze particularly bad today and his inhaler ran out when he tried it so he headed for the infirmary to find spares. Once there he found Enid treating a burn on Earl's arm. At the sight of Enid Oliver was reminded of his dream. He wasn't expecting this. A prickly heat rose up his neck while he searched for the right medication.

"No need to fuss," Earl complained to her, "it was a small mistake, an arthritis flare up."

"You should really think about taking a break," Enid said.

Tammy Rose, waiting by the door, liked this idea but Earl did not. He got his coat and on his way outside he grumbled to himself about the two dozen horseshoes he needed to get done in preparation for the fair. For good measure he told Enid, "Thanks, though, hon," as he left. Tammy Rose sighed sympathetically in her husband's wake. Enid saw her out, too, and then a moment later returned and elbowed Oliver gently as he was sifting through boxes, searching for the right shade of blue — cerulean, Carl would've called it.

"Your leg?" Enid asked.

"No..." He coughed and dropped his old inhaler on the counter. "Empty cartridge."

She closed the drawer he was searching through and opened the one beside it, plucking out a Ventolin inhaler box. Oliver ripped it open, removed the cap, and took two puffs. The relief never got old — even to asthmatics breathing was always overrated until it was unavailable.

Oliver took a deep grateful breath and then headed for the door.

"Hey, hey, take it easy a minute," Enid said, trashing the box. "Sit."

His sigh was a wheeze so he sat on the chair across from her. She stepped over to him and reached up to his hair.

"You've got straw stuck in your fringe," she said. "You spend so much time with those horses I'm worried you'll grow hooves and a tail."

Oliver scoffed.

Enid sat in a chair next to him. "You okay?"

Oliver nodded. "Weird night," he admitted. "How are you?"

"I'm really good, actually, now that everyone is safe — weird night?"

Oliver opened his mouth. Shut it.

"What?" Enid insisted. "Tell me."

"I... had a dream..." His brow arched and he laughed at himself. "It was about you, I think."

Enid's eyebrows rose. "Me?"

Oliver nodded guiltily, snorting.

"Like," she said, finding this hilarious, too, "a dream... like..."

"It wasn't... I mean, it was, yeah, but it wasn't _because_ of anything." Oliver shook his head, grinning. "I mean, it didn't even realise it was you, until... I'm still not even sure if it was… I guess, it's only because of yesterday... behind the trailers..." He stopped, too embarrassed to keep talking. Enid just sat there laughing until she turned in her chair to face him square on.

"You need to get laid, Oliver."

Oliver flared his eyes at her. "What?"

"You heard me."

"I don't need to... get... laid."

"You do," she argued. "You've started objectifying me!"

"Not by choice, thank you!"

She giggled into her thumbs, thinking. "What are your thoughts on Marco?"

"Marco?" Oliver exclaimed. "God, please, stop!"

"Haven't you ever wondered what he looks like under all that soot and ash? It'll be great. We can double date and you and I can complain about the never-ending burning coal smell together."

"I'm going to have a heart attack."

Enid laughed. "Yeah. You're probably right. I don't even know if he's interested in men. Or women, really. He doesn't talk about it."

She was right. In the six years Oliver had known Marco he'd learned a lot of things about him, like how he liked to build things at the blacksmithery and celebrated Day of the Dead. And Oliver knew that he was born in El Paso, Texas, and that he'd grown up in Mexico and that he lost his two little sisters and his mom in a fire a year before the Turn when he was only twelve, and that he spent the last year before the end of the old world living with his abusive father until the day he watched him get eaten alive on their journey towards the border. His love life, however, was a topic he hadn't decided to share with Oliver at all, nor Enid apparently.

"Which is why I am not going to ask him," Oliver added. "And anyway, I don't think of him like that. He's like a brother, or a cousin, or —I don't know— _a friend_."

"Him and every other person around here," Enid remarked.

"Right."

She tutted at him. "Then you choose someone. Tell me someone you're even a little bit attracted to."

Oliver put his head in his hands, brain blank.

"You could take them to the Windmill," Enid went on. "Somewhere romantic."

"Is that where you and Alden go? Besides behind the infirmary trailer, I mean."

She punched him.

Oliver grunted and laughed and clutched his bicep.

"_No,_" Enid retorted, her face a little pink. "But it is where Penny and Felix go sometimes. Hilde and Miles, too."

Oliver snorted, flicking the rubber band on his hook and thinking to himself that he shouldn't be so surprised — Hilltop wasn't some ancient abbey lived in by monks. People had sex all the time. Nobody else was celibate but himself.

Enid watched him expectantly. Oliver knew the smile on his face was fading so in a last ditch effort to keep the subject light he told her, "Thanks, Een, but I'm happy on my own."

Enid smiled and patted his leg in this sympathetic way that made him roll his eyes, and then she got up and went to organise the medicine cabinet. Oliver left the infirmary, promising to save her and Alden a seat at breakfast.

* * *

By the evening Oliver was keeping guard outside the cellar while Daryl spent a while talking to Lydia inside. Tara and Henry arrived at some point and waited for Daryl to come back outside. Finally he did, locking the cellar door behind himself.

"So?" Tara asked.

"Told me where her mom's camp was," Daryl answered. "That it probably won't be there anymore."

"Why not?"

"Her mom always kept them on the move."

Tara frowned. "She wouldn't leave without her daughter."

Daryl shook his head. "Not what she thinks. She says when one of them dies, or is taken, they move on, like they never existed."

"But she's her daughter."

"She beats her," he added, quietly. "Killed her own husband. Fed Lydia lies about it 'till she figured out the truth by herself. Her mom — she lets her people... pass Lydia around... like... like some _toy_."

Oliver's throat closed. Even after almost a decade the nightmares of his own abuse at the hands of those Claimers made him want to die on particularly bad days. He could see in Daryl's eyes that he remembered it, too. He could see how, still, all the regret and the pain ate at him for not knowing to do something to save Oliver sooner. Beyond a hug and a few wan thank yous, they had never spoken about it, what Daryl had done for Oliver that final night, the risk he had taken and the forever unpayable debt Oliver now had to him for it.

Daryl began to pace.

He looked like he wanted to hit something.

"Her own _mom_!" he spat, shaking out his fists.

Henry cleared his throat. "So what happens next?"

"Should we see about that camp she mentioned?" Tara said.

"Why?" Daryl asked. "If it's gone like she said, we're safer here, keeping as much distance from Lydia's mom as possible."

Tara nodded. "Yeah. You're right. What about the girl?"

Daryl pointed at Henry. "You wanna get Lydia some fresh clothes?"

Henry's face lit up. "She can stay?"

Daryl inhaled. "We'll see."

He turned to leave with Oliver and Tara.

"Hey, Daryl?" Henry called out. "I'm glad you and my mom are friends."

On their way to the house, suddenly, Yumiko shouted from watch.

"It's the skinheads!"

The air turned cold and silent.

The adrenaline almost knocked Oliver to his knees.

"Everyone inside!" Tara bellowed.

Hilltop moved into defence immediately. People fled from the gardens. Kal and Alden shut the gate behind them. Some parents ushered their children inside Barrington House and everyone else rushed to their nearest guard points. Oliver climbed to the guard rail next to the gate where Tara, Daryl, and Yumiko were passing around a pair of binoculars. Several walkers were marching across the crop fields towards Hilltop and only stopped once they got to the garden gate. Through the binoculars Oliver saw them better — their hollowed-out eyes and mouths and behind them, blinking and breathing.

One of them came forward, moving slow but deliberate. It removed its mask to reveal a woman. She wore torn bloody clothes that hung off her shoulders at odd angles and even without the mask she resembled a corpse, with dirty stains around her unblinking eyes and down-turned mouth, the rest of her skin pale and sickly.

"I am Alpha," she said in a floaty, carrying voice. "And we only want one thing from you. My daughter."

A silence fell across the fields and spread itself deep into Hilltop.

Finally Tara spoke through it.

"Our community is more than capable of defending itself!"

At this, Alpha surveyed along the walls. "I show you my face because we mean you no harm. I just want my daughter. I know you have her."

"You should turn around," Daryl growled.

"Wrong answer," Alpha said. She raised her arm and dozens more members of her group appeared from behind the cornfields. Oliver lost count. He couldn't even tell how many were alive or not.

"I already told you what she does to her daughter," Daryl grumbled to Tara over his shoulder. "We ain't sending Lydia back to that."

Tara nodded. "We aren't."

"Which one of you leads these people?" Alpha called out.

"The hell does it matter?" Daryl asked.

Alpha shrugged. "Then I shall address all of you. Your people crossed into our land. There will be no conflict. Your people killed our people. There will be no conflict. I'm done talkin'. Bring me my daughter or there _will_ be conflict."

"You can't have her," Daryl shouted. "If it's a fight you're looking for, we've got enough firepower to light you up. Right here and now!"

A baby began crying. Oliver spotted it in one of the Whisperer's arms. He, along with several others inside Hilltop who could see it, too, begin protesting.

"A baby?"

"You brought a baby out here!"

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Alpha opened her arms wide to them, as if soaking in their insults like warm rays of sun. "We're animals," she answered. "Animals live out here. Animals have babies. So we have babies out here. Now, what were you sayin'? Lightin' us all up? You people seem to want conflict. I don't."

She put down her arms.

People inside Hilltop quietened down.

"I have a horde," Alpha said, voice shrill like a ghost. "Bigger than anything you can imagine. If you don't give me what belongs to me, I'll lead it here and you will die. One of mine, for all of you. It's a good trade, which is why you're gonna take it. Now... bring me my daughter."

Another group of them emerged from the trees. Oliver only knew they were neither alive nor under the Whisperer's control when Alpha turned and sighed at them disappointedly.

"All this talk," she complained, "drawing them."

She sent a few of her people off to deal with the dead. They herded them into a group that hovered in a restless circle a few hundred yards behind the rest of Alpha's group. Satisfied, she turned back to Hilltop. The baby's crying didn't waver. Despite the Whisperer's efforts the herded circle of walkers kept breaking to search for the sound. The mother, who looked rather small, or —Oliver disliked to think— young, tried to settle her baby and looked to Alpha when she couldn't.

Alpha just shrugged.

The herded circle of walkers broke and another small cluster closed in. The mother placed her baby on the ground and stepped away from it. People in Hilltop were climbing up onto the guard posts and banging against the walls with their knives and spears to drown out the baby's cries and distract the dead, but it wasn't working. The walkers were heading right for it.

"The baby!" someone shouted.

"Get the fucking baby!" someone else screamed.

And Alpha just said, "To live with the dead means to live in silence. If the mother can't quiet the child then the dead will. Natural selection."

As one walker knelt down to grab the screaming baby, all of a sudden, one of Alpha's masked people ran for it. Another Whisperer wearing a dirty, purple, flannel shirt tried to stop him but he shoved her off. In seconds he had rammed into the looming walkers and stabbed two through their skulls, then he scooped up the baby and disappeared inside the corn stalks. Walkers followed him. Connie tried to get down from the guard post but Kelly stopped her. Everyone watched the moving cornstalks tensely, listening to the growling and the baby's crying and then the crying stopped and there was only growling.

Oliver stared in horror, feeling sick. The baby's mother was sobbing into her hands. Oliver could hear in her voice that she was barely a teenager. The Whisperer in the dirty, purple, flannel shirt watched her, a small disapproving shake in her head. People inside Hilltop were in uproar but despite their obscenities Alpha seemed amused.

"Animals ain't the right word for you!" Daryl growled at her. "You're monsters! The girl stays!"

Alpha frowned. "And that's your final decision?"

Daryl spat down over the wall. "Get the fuck out of here. _Now!_"

"Suit yourself," Alpha said, and finally the dead and those pretending to be walked away, hidden under their rotten skin masks, away towards the setting sun and guiding the dead off with them.

* * *

_All I see is zombies  
Feeding all around us  
All they eat are people, and you won't survive  
They don't know what happened  
They just stay alive_

"_We're coming out to get you  
We're, oh, so glad we met you  
We're eating you for profit  
There is no way to stop it!"_

_You will find there is no safe place to hide_

_Do you feel alive, yeah?  
Do you feel alive...?_

* * *

**Notes**

Song was "Zombies" by Childish Gambino.

Some stuff from Issue 137. This is not a love triangle, honest. I just think Oliver has a lot of suppressed feelings, especially since he's effectively written off romantic interest for the last six years. Also, like I said before, I think reducing Enid to a love interest and/or having Oliver pursue her, especially at this point, is demeaning to her character so it's just a dumb/fun dynamic to write and build up for the next few chapters.

If any of you are confused about the whole Daryl rescuing Oliver mention, I went back and re-wrote the story, so there's a new arc before the grove where Oliver doesn't escape the Claimers and is taken captive by them for a few days.

Just to keep it clear. The recent differences this fic have made from the show are that Luke and Alden weren't taken hostage by Alpha, therefore nobody has met Alpha until this point, and she's mentioned the herd sooner than in the show since in this she doesn't have any other form of leverage to threaten them with. Bluff or not, you will see soon. There will also be more content on the baby and the mystery Whisperer who ran to rescue it (succeeded or failed, you'll see soon, too).

As always,  
Happy reading.


	6. Hilltop Hooch and Blueshine

_CW: __Mentions of past sexual abuse. __As well as, more positively, s__ome consensual s__exual stuff __at__ the end. It's not explicit but it is a little less subtle now than __it has been in the past__ considering __Oliver is an__ adult and I don't feel the visceral need to __write__ so __conservatively__ with that subject anymore. Hope it still has some sense of proficiency, though, since it's meant to be at least a little bit plot relevant._

_AN: If you haven't read the re-written first book's Claimer arc (chapters 1__9__ to 2__2__) then some of this chapter __w__ill__ not make sense to you, which may result in __some of this being__ bothersome or distracting for __some__ readers otherwise. Just so you know beforehand, Oliver was with them for longer than the original upload. __For any other new changes to the story, see my profile. It's a long list but the Claimer arc is definitely the __biggest__ difference I made in the story. The majority of other changes were all a lot less impactful, but they're there described in the list anyway._

* * *

_I never cared much for moonlit skies  
I never wink back at fireflies  
But now that the stars are in your eyes  
I'm beginning to see the light..._

* * *

It wasn't safe to leave Hilltop's walls to go and get help from any of the other communities, let alone recover the bodies in the cornfield. Nobody was keen for that anyway considering a lot of the residents at Hilltop had never even seen a walker baby before, and even though Oliver had, unfortunately, he wasn't any more prepared to do it again. They had twice as many guards in post to spot any sign of Alpha's incoming herd. As well as that it was clear that attending the fair in a few days' time wasn't going to happen. At the very least the Kingdom would notice their absence and send reinforcements to come and help them, if there would be anything to help by then at all. It was safe to say that the anxiety the Whisperers had bestowed upon Hilltop had turned the rest of the day silent and sour in preparation for a fight. Lydia was on probation in case she tried anything in light of her mother's unexpected attempt to reclaim her. After spending all day on watch Oliver, Enid, Alden, and Marco's shift finally ended and they went and sat around a bench in the late evening with four untouched sandwiches on their plates. Enid was the first of the four to break the unsettled silence.

"Keep thinking of that baby," she said.

Alden glanced at her, eyebrows arched and twirling his fork in his hand.

Enid sighed. "Today was hard."

"And tomorrow will be harder," Oliver said.

Marco and Alden glanced between them both.

Alden shook his head. "I don't know how it makes you both feel any better saying that mantra all the time. It's almost as foreboding as your old _JSS_ one."

Enid smiled at him and in solidarity bumped Oliver's shoulder. Her smile faded after a moment. She asked the three of them, "Do you really think she was telling the truth, that her herd is going to be that big?"

"Tara and Daryl have their doubts," Marco said.

"Yeah, well, they're still taking the threat seriously enough for me to doubt their doubts," Alden said.

"We're being prepared," Oliver answered. "Expecting the worst, hoping for the best."

Alden sighed in relent.

"Still," Enid seconded, "I mean, it's hard to believe anyone would just send a herd in to kill their own daughter like that."

Alden squinted at Oliver whose face must've been giving away his scepticism.

"You think she would do it?" Alden asked him.

Oliver didn't know what to say. After learning how the Whisperers treated Lydia he didn't think there was much Alpha wouldn't do to placate her people, like Dawn at Grady Memorial who let her officers traffic their wards if it meant maintaining her place in power, but, then again, look where that got her.

"Sucks we can't go to the fair," Marco said.

Oliver's chest was heavy.

"We're safer in numbers," Enid said. "Kingdom are, too. And if any from Alexandria come—"

"They wont," Oliver said.

"But _i__f_ they do," Enid went on, "they'll have to go by Hilltop first, and like Tara said, if we're still alive by then, we can send out scouts to warn them."

Alden looked at her carefully.

Marco sighed at the ground.

They were quiet for a few minutes while they attempted to start on their sandwiches.

"Hey," Enid said to Oliver at one point, forcing a more cheerful tone. "Have you thought anymore about what we talked about?"

Oliver knew she meant the prospect of dating someone, or at the very least breaking his abstinence, and by the look on Alden's face he was in on it, too. Marco, thankfully, did not seem so aware and had just frowned at his sandwich in what looked like a meagre attempt to find the will to eat it.

Oliver groaned. "Why?"

"We're all dying," Enid answered. "Today, tomorrow, fifty years from now. So, why not?"

Oliver shook his head. Alden smiled. Enid squinted in that way of hers. Marco had only just looked up from his food to notice them all. He asked what they were talking about. Oliver decided he'd had enough so he got up, stuffed the end of his sandwich in his mouth, and bid them all farewell as he left for the stables.

As the sun set, to distract himself from the dread of an incoming herd, Oliver trained a stocky chestnut mare for carriage work. It didn't go well. Either the mare was having a bad day or Oliver was — she was jumpy and distracted and Oliver began losing his temper so he called it a day and washed her down and let her loose in the round pen. This was around the time Quan showed up. He had two paper cups in hand and he gestured one towards Oliver. Quan must've had a haircut recently because his afro was shorter with sharp shaved edges.

"What's this?" Oliver asked.

"Hooch," Quan answered, pinching both cup rims in his left thumb and index as he used his spare hand to climb up and sit on the fence. Once Oliver was up and sitting next to him Quan held out one of the cups. Oliver took it and peered inside. It held a murky brown liquid inside that smelled fruity and fumy and a little sour. "Thought you could use something to take the edge off," Quan added. "Looked like you needed it."

Oliver tilted his head in confusion.

"Papa Bear and I could see you working that mare," Quan explained, "from the distillery."

Oliver laughed at himself. "Yeah. Not feeling so focused today, I guess."

"Go easy on yourself, man. It's difficult for anyone to focus when some crazy cult threatens to kill you and everyone you care about." Quan said it as a joke but he didn't look at all amused. "I would know, right?"

Oliver watched him carefully, wondering what his life at the Sanctuary must have been like years ago. Quan nodded in a denying way like he wanted to move on from that subject, which he did by tapping Oliver's paper cup with his own and together they cheered and knocked back their drinks in several loud gulps.

"You and Papa Bear are... miracle workers," Oliver grunted. "Seriously, this stuff is like unicorn blood nowadays."

"Ah, wait 'til you try our moonshine at the fair." His smile faltered and instead he grimaced in surrender. "Well, we were going to trading it at the fair anyway. Guess not anymore. More for us, eh?"

"Sure," Oliver said, and as Quan grinned at him it occurred to Oliver how handsome he was. He thought of what Enid had told him, how they were all dying one day or another, sooner or later. Probably sooner.

He counted to three in his head.

He said, "I know this is a weird time to ask, considering, but would you want to go out with me?"

And Quan said, "Yeah."

So Oliver said, "On a date, I mean."

"Yeah, I know," Quan said. "Sure."

Oliver blinked at the ground in surprise. He hadn't planned what to do next. He cleared his throat. Suddenly it was difficult to swallow or use his mouth or tongue. Quan grinned. Oliver pulled himself together.

"I, err... I mean, great. After this is all over—"

"We don't know when it's even going to start," Quan cut him off, "so let's say... nine o'clock? So long as we aren't buried under walkers by then."

"Nine o'clock... in the morning?"

"Nah. Nine o'clock _t__oday_."

It was already eight-thirty.

Oliver nodded dumbly.

"Cool," Quan said, and hopped off the fence. "I'll bring a little moonshine along — let you try out one of the new flavours before anyone else."

He winked and then he was gone all before Oliver could think of anything clever to say and for some time afterwards he felt unbearably stupid for it. Annoying stomach butterflies hit him on his way upstairs to his room. He switched on Jesus' old phonograph player in the landing and put on an up-beat record just to punish himself, then disappeared inside his room. The door had been left ajar all day so he found Scab curled up in the sunspot on the rug. Oliver picked her up and pet her. She purred happily in his arms for a moment and then suddenly struggled and leaped off of him indignantly. Oliver checked his watch.

Eight-fourty PM.

"Oddio..."

He stank of horseshit so he showered, then he found a clean pair of jeans and a dress shirt. Too formal. He switched the dress shirt for a t-shirt and cardigan. Buttoned the cardigan, then unbuttoned it. After he brushed his teeth he tied his hair up into a loose bun to make the flyaway hairs look somewhat intentional — this was something Oliver usually refused to take any notice of but today the insecurities hit him a little differently. He slapped his cheeks and told himself through the mirror to calm down and get over himself. With five minutes to spare he went downstairs and waited on the porch.

A few people heading off to change watch shifts gave him strange looks on their way. Their curiosity wasn't surprising. The last time Oliver paid so much attention to his presentation was for Carol and Ezekiel's wedding four springs ago. Luckily though nobody felt the need to pry into his business as they passed by. Then at two minutes to nine he heard footsteps approaching from the trailers.

Quan walked into the lamp light and waved.

"Hi," he said.

"Hey." Oliver stood up from the step, getting his hook stuck on the banister in the process and cringing as he pried himself free. "Err — hey."

Quan was wearing cuffed pants and a vest under suspenders and a faux-collared jacket. In his hands was a small, sealed, glass jar with something clear and faintly blue inside. He saw Oliver staring at it in awe and with a shrug said, "I call this one _Blueshine _— part of my moonshine line. Eleven flavours, so far."

"What makes it blue?"

"A few elderberries and some blueberries — oh, and a little mulberry."

"And you've made eleven flavours?"

"Thinking of naming my latest flavour _Lightning Shine_. What do you think?"

"Sounds poisonous."

"Damn right!"

Oliver laughed. "I'll still drink it."

"Oh, you'll want to. It's _spicy._"

Oliver realised they were flirting.

Quan gestured his head to the courtyard. "Want to go to the windmill? I'm friends with the millwright — he used to be a Savior, too. _A__nd_... I know where he keeps a spare key."

Oliver laughed nervously, not believing this. "Sure, man. Let's go."

The millwright's spare key was kept outside the chicken coop on a concealed hook. Oliver wondered if Quan went to the mill often with other guys or girls or who knew. Oliver, on the other hand, had only been inside the windmill a handful of times to get supplies. He always managed to forget how huge the inner wooden gears were. Quan flipped on a dim solar lamp to see better. They watched the machinery for a moment, amazed by the giant cogwheels rolling around in the heart of the mill, grinding under the sheer weight and force of the revolving wings outside.

"Oliver, up here..."

They climbed a ladder to a small loft where supplies were kept. There was a large window that took several yanks to open and together they sat on the narrow ledge. The windmill's wings swung before them in a slow rhythm that made Oliver feel giddy — or perhaps that was just the hooch he'd drank earlier. Each time a wing flew by a gust followed it and blew in Oliver's face, causing his flyaway hairs to tickle his temples and forehead. Quan passed him the mason jar. Oliver drank two gulps, grimaced, then passed the jar back.

"Wow. That… is strong."

"Good, huh?"

"Yeah. Totally."

Grinning, Quan drank and then set the jar between them.

"Real talk," he said suddenly, and for a moment Oliver was worried he would bring up Alpha or the Whisperers or the potentially incoming horde but instead Quan asked him, "How'd you wind up at Alexandria, at the start?"

"It's a… long story."

Quan nodded to this in a knowing way.

"What about you?" Oliver asked him. "How'd you find the Sanctuary?"

A sad smile came onto Quan's face then — one Oliver felt he understood for some reason.

"I axed you first," Quan said softly.

Oliver submitted to this, considering how curious he was for Quan's own answer, and said, "I had a brother, Patrick. We were on our own for the first year or so, never stayed in one place too long — people died or we ran away because they wanted us dead, the usual, you know."

Quan seemed to.

"Rick took us in," Oliver said. "My brother first..."

"First?"

"We got separated. Pat and I."

"For how long?"

"Five months." Oliver drank more Blueshine. "There was a store, and a cluster, and a boom box — David Bowie... kinda dumb."

"Doesn't sound it."

Oliver found himself smiling.

He cleared his throat. "Anyway, uh, Daryl and Michonne found me later. Brought me into Rick's group, at a prison. Lived there for a couple months but… after a while, there was a sickness, and my brother died... err, after that, only a few days later, we were attacked."

"I heard about this," Quan said. "The Governor?"

"Yeah..." It was strange to recall the event, to even hear the name. After so many years it still carried a weight to it like a sick thing in Oliver's pocket. "After the prison fell all of us got separated. Most we never found again. But some we did."

"How did you escape?"

"Rick," Oliver said, "and Carl. We fled... to a nearby suburb. Michonne found us there, eventually. We stayed until we recovered. Rick'd been shot. I was injured."

He pulled up his shirt to show the scar across his abdomen. It had grown with his body in almost nine years, stretched and thickened to make a once already bad wound look even worse now.

"We'd lost so much in so little time," Oliver explained. "All we had was each other."

"Then what? You found Alexandria?"

"No, err..." For several more moments Oliver couldn't find the words to say any more. He was too old to sugar coat, too worn out to explain in detail, so he said simply, "People found us. These guys. We hid but they found me, and Rick — he... left me to save his son. I was with them for a few days. Their way was to claim what they owned... even me. I only got away because Daryl found me with them. He got me out. After that I found Carol. Things were better for a little while. Then things were really bad again. We lost people. We killed people. And then we found people. _Our_ people."

Oliver sighed.

"Before Alexandria," he said, "we met terrible people. We _were_ terrible people. We murdered, we destroyed, and we left people to die... but those people who we met, who we killed… they raped or they kidnapped or they used us as slaves or they ate us, so..."

Quan nodded. He took a long gulp of Blueshine, his face unreadable, until finally he tutted and said, "I know who I'd choose to hang out with."

Oliver snorted.

"So," Quan said, "after all that you found Alexandria?"

"Yes," Oliver said, actually laughing now and feeling weightless all of a sudden, "after all that, we did."

They drank to that.

"Your turn," Oliver said, inhaling the shine fumes sharply.

Quan nodded. "Right. My turn." He groaned in this pained way and Oliver felt so connected to him for some strange awful moment, only it felt good, too, so he copied his groan. Quan smiled at him. He said, "I lost my parents early on. But they'd managed to get me to this refugee centre in Indiana a couple miles from home. The people in charge were... not good."

He sighed steeply.

"It was…" he said, "the worst place I had and will ever have the displeasure to find myself. The Sanctuary was a haven compared."

"What?"

Quan laughed. "No joke, man."

"Why?" Oliver asked, wondering if he would have asked if he was sober, and Quan shook his head like he was wondering the same thing in regards to answering.

Eventually he said, "Know what a catamite is?"

"No."

"Good."

At Quan's tone Oliver grew a hunch on the words' meaning but didn't want to give it power in saying it aloud or else it might burn them. Quan seemed to tell Oliver had figured it out, though, and nodded.

He laughed at himself. "I don't even know why I'm telling you this."

"No, it's okay," Oliver said, "it... happened to me, too."

Quan watched him. He was smiling but it was that sad kind of smile from before. "I grew to thinking it was normal, you know?" he admitted. "After enough time, I got used to it. I was so young. I got used to the drugs, and the beatings, and the hunger, and… being other people's property, so long as it kept a roof over my head."

"Yeah," Oliver said. "How did you get out?"

"Papa Bear," Quan said, and a light came into his eyes then, gently, like a reminder to exist. "He came along and took me away from it. I guess them who owned me took him in thinking he was one of them... but they were wrong. He killed some of them. He got me out. He saved me from it."

Oliver knew then that only he and Quan alone knew this feeling. This feeling of owing your whole freedom, your whole life, to someone else's kindness.

"I'm sorry," Quan said. "I can talk about the most depressing shit when I drink. This was probably a bad idea."

"No, no," Oliver said, unable to stop the plea in his voice.

Quan watched him. Oliver had taken his hand. He let go once he noticed. He put his hand in his lap and thought of what Quan had said to him: '_He got me out. He saved me from it.' _And he thought of how Daryl had done that for him, and then a nastier part of him thought of how Rick had done the exact opposite. He pushed it away to the same place he pushed everything that felt bad, to a place where it couldn't hurt him anymore, where the other, kinder things Rick had done for him were brighter.

"Did you find the Saviors after that?" Oliver asked.

"They found us," Quan said. "We were dying on the side of the road. They took us in. It was like being a slave all over again, but hey, I wasn't paying my way with my body, at least, and neither were most folk. That's the only bit of good I will stand by that Negan did for me."

Quan grimaced through another gulp of Blueshine.

"That crazy bastard gave me a place to be a kid again," he said, passing over the mason jar, "a place where Papa Bear could teach me how to build a real living."

Oliver drank and thought of his own relationship with Carol. Under the Blueshine influence he told Quan about how he met her as his teacher in Storytime and how she took care of him after he was abused and taught him everything he knew.

They drank a little more for a while, feeling oddly peaceful despite everything, just sitting there, witnessing the slow, wing-rushing quiet.

"Tell me, then," Quan asked eventually, "what finally gave it away?"

"Gave what away?"

"That I've been flirting with you for months."

"What?" Oliver laughed.

"Guess it wasn't all the boss pick-up lines then? Or that one time I straight up just asked you out?"

"You never did!"

"_I did!_" Quan argued, laughing. "You said you were busy."

Oliver thought back to several months ago near the start of summer when Quan had caught him on his way to breakfast and asked to hang out the same evening, but Oliver had assumed Quan meant with his friends, so made up an excuse.

"Oh..." Oliver mumbled. "I didn't realise."

"Nah. No sweat," Quan snorted.

Oliver groaned to himself. Quan smiled at him. Oliver had to look out at Hilltop, watch the windmill wings swing and swerve round before them. He could still see out the corner of his eye Quan watching him so Oliver huffed nervously and asked, "Why are you looking at me like that?"

And Quan said, "'Cause I want to kiss you, fool."

Oliver felt whiplashed after the heavy discussion they'd just had, and actually laughed as he said, "Okay," and without missing a beat Quan leaned forward and kissed him. It was warm and slow. Oliver just sighed. He felt relieved and he didn't know why. When Quan pulled away he smiled. Oliver looked away, nerves back at full force, and watched a wing swing by to distract himself.

"I'm not very good at this," he admitted. "It's been a while since I kissed somebody like this. I don't know how well I do at it these days."

"You did great."

Oliver cringed, then chuckled.

"Here, man," Quan said, and handed over the Blueshine jar. "Cheers."

"Cheers."

By the time they decided to leave the windmill most of the Blueshine was gone and they somehow managed to make it down the ladder without breaking their necks. After stumbling outside and across the courtyard, holding hands and joking around drunkly, they stopped and looked at each other for a moment, on the edge of saying goodbye or saying something else — Oliver wondered if he should kiss him again but the thought made him anxious out of his mind. Perhaps if he just tried it kissing would become as natural and as exciting as he remembered it. He checked no curious guards could see them properly from the guard decks. None seemed focussed on anything inside the walls, so Oliver looked back at Quan who smiled in a surrendering sort of way.

"Thanks for a good night, Oliver."

Oliver opened his mouth to ask — but Quan was already stepping back, his hand slipping away, and turning towards the trailers.

_Just try,_ Oliver told himself, swelling up like a balloon. _Just fucking try!_

Oliver gripped Quan's fingers at the last second. Quan turned and gasped. He barely let out a small mumble of confusion before Oliver stepped forward and kissed him. He held the back of Quan's head in his hand, tangling his fingers into his curls, and he smelled bitter and sweet at the same time as though the fermenting fruit and sugar in the distillery had been etched into his skin. Quan's kisses were soft and slow and calm. His hands moved around Oliver's waist, pawing and pulling. Oliver asked and Quan agreed and in moments they were stumbling towards the trailers, hand in hook, staggering along moonlit paths until they found Quan's place and climbed inside together.

Oliver kicked the door shut behind themselves and Quan pulled him through the narrow trailer living room into his bedroom. It was small and cramped and unlit. When Quan burned a lamp Oliver saw a billhook machete propped against the wall and a modest stack of distillery recopy books on a shelf. They took off their clothes. Oliver even took off his prosthetic arm when he asked if it was okay to. He sat on the bed, nervous and naked. He looked up at Quan who bent down to kiss him. Oliver could taste the moonshine in their mouths, smell its sweetness in their breath. He felt Quan run his fingers gently over the scars on his chest. Oliver didn't know why he laughed. He didn't know why he sighed. He put his hand on Quan's waist and pulled him onto his lap. He laid back. It was a beautiful feeling to be inside of him. Beautiful, but it didn't last as long as Oliver meant it to.

"I'm sorry," he said, out of breath and wiping sweat from his hairline. "I... err... really meant that not to end so quickly."

He shouldn't have felt so surprised at how funny Quan found this.

"Don't tell me," he said, cackling softly, "that was your first time?"

"Might as well have been," Oliver admitted, rolling off of him. "But no. It wasn't."

"Ah," Quan said, raising two fingers, "second time, then."

"Fuck you!" Oliver laughed, punching Quan's damp chest. He could feel the heat rising in his face.

Quan just laughed and turned onto his side to kiss him.

"Don't be sorry, fool," he said, lying close so their noses brushed, "because in a little while we can try again, if you want to?"

Oliver watched him, nodding, and Quan was right because a half hour later Oliver found himself sprawled on his stomach with his face squashed into Quan's pillow, experiencing a bliss so fierce that he wasn't sure he'd ever known anything like it in his life.

* * *

_I never went in for afterglow  
Or candlelight on the mistletoe  
But now when you turn the lamp down low  
I'm beginning to see the light_

_Used to ramble through the park  
Shadowboxing in the dark  
Then you came and caused a spark  
That's a four-alarm fire now_

_I never made love by lantern-shine  
I never saw rainbows in my wine  
But now that your lips are burning mine  
I'm beginning to see the light..._

* * *

**Notes**

Song was "I'm Beginning to See the Light" by The Ink Spots.

As always,  
Happy reading.


	7. All I'm Doing is Dying, Lady

**fandomismylife **I'm glad I stepped it up a bit without breaching the content rating. And ugh I cringed so hard at realising how often I write the word man into dialogue. The show does it too but not as much as the last chapter, so I went back and toned it down. Thanks for the feedback!

**wonderbitch26** lmao I'm glad you enjoy him, or at least enjoy him and Oliver. That's lovely to know.

* * *

_CW: Mild body horror._

* * *

_Old man, let me wipe your eyes  
I've never seen you cry_

_Old friend, in our own, sweet time  
We'll say a good goodbye  
All my life, I know by now_

_Everybody, raise a glass, here's to a good goodbye..._

* * *

Oliver slept all night without being awoken suddenly to alarms of Alpha's incoming horde, or worse. It was a relief until the hangover caved in. He struggled through a nasty headache and some nausea as he crawled out of bed, squinting in search for his ankle brace, prosthetic arm, and various items of his clothing strewn around Quan's bedroom. It was still early. Quan was still asleep. Oliver scribbled a note on a piece of paper and left it on Quan's bedside. It read:

'_Q, __t__hanks for a good night  
__see you again sometime  
OdL__'_

He went to the kitchens. Ms. Maitlin was busy preparing breakfast and while her back was turned Oliver snuck into the scullery and snatched a thick slice of plain bread from the counter-top and stuffed it entirely into his mouth. Ms. Maitlin swatted a tea-towel at him, tutting as he hurried away. As he went outside the blinding sunrise reminded him that he would need something stronger for his headache so he visited Enid's infirmary.

While rummaging around in cupboards for pain killers a voice behind him said, "Hi?" Oliver didn't need to turn around to know it was Enid standing in the trailer doorway.

"You're at work early," he said.

"No, I haven't," she replied. "It's almost eight o'clock. I have an appointment."

Oliver groaned because of the pain and where the hell was the damned aspirin?

"What's up?" Enid asked.

Oliver turned to her with a wince. "Hungover."

With a quizzical look she found him some pills in a drawer above his head and watched him swallow two with a glass of water.

"Are you alright?" she asked as he headed for the door.

"Yeah. Why?"

"I'm worried about you. I know things are tense right now, but you shouldn't drink alone."

"I wasn't alone."

"You weren't?"

"Nope. I followed your advice."

She frowned for a moment and then her eyes widened. Oliver was out the door before she had time to continue their conversation. All he heard was her call out, "You're welcome, I guess!" as he made his way across Hilltop for chores.

Despite the impending doom of Alpha's horde Oliver was in a relatively good mood while mucking out the stalls, but it didn't last for long. As he finished his seventh stall a baby cried from somewhere in the distance and Oliver stopped suddenly to listen. He heard nothing but crickets singing and owls hooting softly under the pale sunrise so he assumed the noise was from the trailers and not from further away where he'd sworn it had sounded. Then again a few minutes later the baby cried again. Only this time the baby didn't stop crying. And it was certainly not inside the walls. Earl and Tammy Rose were at the blacksmithery peering around, too. Daryl came out from the house with his arm up to shade his eyes.

"It's... outside?"

Earl and Tammy Rose looked at each other at the same time and then without warning sped towards the gates. Connie was there then followed quickly by Daryl and Oliver. They helped haul the gate open enough to slip out and the five of them sprinted for the cornfields, hearts racing. Kelly called out from behind them. Oliver pushed through stalks, knife drawn, to the walker bodies that hadn't been cleared yet and tripped clean over an ankle. The crying was right beside his face, under the bodies. Tammy Rose pulled Oliver to his feet. They helped Daryl, Earl, and Connie shove walkers aside until a baby tumbled out of one of their arms, muddy and screaming.

Tammy Rose brought it up in her arms. Daryl checked it for bites or scratches. Found none.

"Come on," Earl said, a hand on his wife's shoulder. "We should get out of here."

"Wait..." Oliver hissed, watching the walker the baby had fallen away from. He saw the sewn skin on the back of its head. Did it move? Oliver nudged it with his boot toe.

The walker moaned and then it said, "My... My nephew... please."

Daryl stepped around Oliver, out of breath.

"Help me get him up, now."

* * *

While Earl and Tammy Rose took the baby to their trailer Daryl and Oliver carried the Whisperer to the infirmary. Connie opened the door for them. Enid tied the Whisperer to the hospital bed. He'd been bitten on his stomach. As well as that he was badly bruised and cut up, with long healing lashes along his arms. His skin was coated in dirt and mud bar the lines of sweat and tears on his face and neck and hands that showed streaks of pale skin underneath.

Enid got him water and a little food to help him stay conscious. She cleaned and patched up his bite. His breath was short and weak and nervous. He peered around at them all suspiciously.

"What— What do you want from me?"

"We need answers," Tara said sternly.

He winced and tried to sit up. "My nephew... Where's—"

"He's safe," Enid said, pushing him by the shoulders to relax. "We'll keep him safe now. You don't have to be afraid."

"Alpha," Tara insisted. "How big is the herd she's bringing here? How long do we have before it arrives?"

The guy shook his head.

"You might as well tell us," she told him. "I mean, you're on your way out anyway, right?"

"_Tara..._" Enid whispered.

Tara shot her a glare. She saw the unsettled looks on Oliver and Daryl's faces, too, and asked, "What? He's dying. We don't have time for this good-cop bad-cop nonsense!"

Daryl touched her arm gently and Tara turned and watched him, their eyes talking instead of their mouths, and then she sighed in relent and stepped back to pace a few feet away across the room. Connie smiled at her encouragingly.

Oliver sighed.

He turned to the Whisperer.

"Look, man," he said, "I'm sorry for what's happened to you, really, but we need your help. Your nephew is safe with us. We promise you that. But he'll die along with the rest of us if we aren't as prepared as possible for Alpha's herd."

Then, by some miracle, the guy nodded.

Oliver sighed. "I'm Oliver. This is Daryl, Tara, that's Connie, and this is Dr. Cholle."

"Enid," she said. "What's your name?"

"Isaac," he said, and huffed.

"What's so funny?" Tara asked him.

"Sorry," Isaac said, voice choked. He sniffed. "It's just... nice to say it out loud again."

They all frowned, disturbed.

"Were you at the cemetery?" Daryl asked.

"No," Isaac said. "I was on punishment. Heard about it after, though. I know your friend was killed."

"We killed a lot more of your friends."

Isaac huffed at him. "You probably killed a lot less thank you think."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Isaac winced. Sweat was trickling down his face and neck. "Just that... not a lot were my friends."

"We don't believe you," Tara said.

Daryl stepped forward. "What's 'on punishment'?"

Isaac sighed like he didn't want to answer.

He swallowed. "Can I see him? Can I see my nephew?"

"You can see him when we're done here," Tara answered. "We've already lost too much to you people."

"I just want my nephew."

"We don't know that. You could be here to get information. You could be part of a trap. We don't know anything about you."

"Me?" Isaac asked. "All I'm doing is dying, lady. Ain't nobody waiting on me no more. Not even my sisters — they said as much when they left us back there."

The rest of them glanced at each other, even Connie, who had read Isaac's lips. Their was guilt in their faces and something else, like sympathy, or regret. Isaac kept his eyes on his stomach. A crimson stain was grown under the clean bandage he had there. Tears fell along his face. He tried to wipe them but his restraints wouldn't allow it.

"Tara," Enid said, "come on..."

After a moment Tara, Connie, and Daryl went outside to discuss privately for a moment. Oliver didn't want to leave Enid alone with Isaac so he stood around while she gave Isaac something for the pain and the inflammation.

"You should just kill me," Isaac said. He can't have been more than a few years younger than them. "I know it's where all this is headed."

"We aren't killers. We're..." Oliver almost said_ better than that_ but he lost the words in his throat, reminded of what Rick had told him all those years ago. The dreaming and the fantasy of the new world. He hated it. Weakly he said instead, "We're fairer than that."

Isaac snorted weakly. "Damn communists."

Enid gave Oliver a small smirk. Oliver rolled his eyes.

"Look, Isaac," Enid said, "we'll make everything as comfortable for you as we can. Just... tell us the truth, please — okay?"

"Ain't no liar," Isaac said. He sniffed. "I ain't."

"I hope not," Oliver said.

Alden came by then, rushing into the infirmary trailer. "Enid, you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay."

They hugged.

"I just woke up," Alden said, "heard they brought a Whisperer in."

Tara, Connie, and Daryl came in moments later. Behind them Tammy Rose and Earl followed, the baby in their arms. He was clean now and no longer crying, if not a little bruised up from the fight Isaac had made for his life in the cornfields. When Isaac saw him he began sobbing. The baby held out his arms to him and babbled happily.

"Please. Is he okay?"

Tara gave the okay and Daryl undid one of Isaac's wrists. Tammy Rose placed the baby in Isaac's lap. Isaac held him and sobbed and as the baby curled up to his chest Isaac kissed the top of his head wetly.

"He'll be hungry," he choked out.

"We got that sorted," Tammy Rose assured him. "There's plenty of formula for him."

"Is... Is he warm enough?"

"Yeah, he's okay, and he's welcome here with us, always," she said. "I can promise you that even if I can't promise you much else."

Earl gave her a disapproving look. He glared at Isaac. "What are you, his father? That girl looked like she wasn't even in her teens."

"She's thirteen and she's my little _sister_, Francis." Isaac looked up at them with tears streaming. He struggled to relax his face. "Thank you. Really. You have to know how grateful I am."

Tara stood between them and crossed her arms. Begrudgingly she forced a polite tone and asked, "Could we ask you some questions, Isaac?"

Isaac wiped his eyes and nodded. His skin was already several shades greyer than when he had arrived several minutes ago. Daryl stepped forward.

"Where is Alpha's herd?" he asked.

"Last I heard it was at the bottom of a gully fifty miles west of here."

"Could you point it on a map?"

Isaac shrugged. "I could try."

As Connie left to find one, Daryl asked, "Know when she's gonna send the herd?"

Isaac shrugged, like it was a difficult question to answer. "I don't know," he admitted. "I swear, I don't. I... don't even know if she will send it."

They all bristled and looked around at each other, hope and desperation in their eyes.

"Explain," Tara said.

Isaac sat up a little, wincing, protecting his nephew's head so he didn't tumble off. He coed to him for a moment, then said to Tara, "She's got her way of doing things, you know? Anybody don't like her way, they can challenge her but... I dunno... I seen how that goes down. She's a... a force of nature."

He shook his head.

He looked up. There was fear and confusion in his eyes. "She broke her code to come get her daughter. Doing that made us all question her. She knew so, too, so... if she's willing to break her own rules, make herself seem weaker... then, I don't know... I got a feeling she's not about to let her kid get ate."

"So she's bluffing," Tara said, relieved.

"No," Isaac told her, his voice low and anxious. He looked at his nephew and then up at everyone else. "I'm sorry — I really am. You takin' in my nephew like this, I see you're better people than she led us to believe. But Alpha's gonna get her kid back. I don't know how or when. If it'll be a herd or an attack or something else. I just know... it won't be nice for you guys."

Tara frowned frustratedly. Connie returned with a map and Isaac pointed to the gully. It was far away from them or from any of the other communities. It would take months to move it close enough to be any type of threat to any of them. This was good news. Brilliant news. With a renewed sense of hope they asked more questions and got a name out of Isaac: Beta, Alpha's second in command, as well as confirmation that Alpha's camp was where Lydia had said it was before, though, like she'd said, he wasn't sure if they would have moved on by now. He even told them a little about their lifestyle and how long he'd been with them but soon he became too weak for anymore questioning, especially since they didn't seem to know what else to ask. As Isaac grew slower and more tired and in pain, he could no longer muster the strength to hold his nephew in his arms so Earl picked him up. It was a miserable sort of goodbye but one that Isaac thought best to get over with instead of leave until too late.

The baby wailed as Tammy Rose and Earl took him away. Tara left to get work done. Connie and Alden, too. Daryl offered to stay and keep watch but Oliver asked to instead. He wasn't sure why. He gave Isaac water whenever he asked for it, which wasn't often, and at some point Isaac asked him, "Why?"

"Why what?" Oliver asked.

Isaac swallowed and winced. Beads of sweat ran down his pallid cheeks.

"Why," he asked, "are you helping me?"

Oliver paused to think. He felt a pang somewhere in his core like unveiling a curtain to a window he didn't like to peer through. He had to hold his breath. "I used to know someone," he answered, finally. "And he would have wanted me to, so... I am."

Isaac's frown flattened out. He nodded. After a little while he started humming something to himself. Oliver knew the tune. _You Are My Sunshine_, and as Isaac grew weaker so did the tune and Oliver strained his ears to listen to it until finally the room went quiet. For several minutes Oliver waited for Isaac to stop breathing. When he did, Oliver stood up and stepped over to the bed.

Isaac's eyes stared dewily up at the ceiling, unmoving. Oliver shut them for him. He drew his knife, slowly, then he pushed it through Isaac's eye and twisted. Enid stepped over from behind. She put her hand on Oliver's elbow. He was shaking. He couldn't stop crying.

"I'm sorry," he spluttered. "I... I don't know why I'm so sad."

"I know," she said softly. "It's okay. I can take it from here."

* * *

_All these memories too much to lose  
No one ever leaves you  
I don't need faith, I don't need truth  
No one ever leaves you_

_I don't need faith I just want proof..._

* * *

**Notes**

Song was "Good Goodbye" by Lianne La Havas.

I've wanted that communist line in this for so long you have no idea.

So, Isaac was originally going to join Hilltop but I killed him off because I wanted him to give his life to keep his nephew safe instead, as well as give people a reason to consider attending the fair again, give up some of Alpha's secrets, and, of course, exploit small parallels between his and Carl's deaths — just to give Oliver more reason to be sad lol.

As always,  
Happy reading.


	8. Chokepoint

_A kick in the __h__ead  
With cheeks coloured red  
I howl at the moon  
But nobody moves..._

* * *

In three weeks November rolled in colder than expected and still no herd came. On the day they were set to leave for the fair it was generally agreed upon that the majority of Hilltop would attend, considering it would likely be another few weeks at least before Alpha's herd arrived, if it arrived at all. And if it was anything as big as she'd said, it would take even longer than that. Scouts would spot them for miles. After the fair they would bring as many reinforcements as Kingdom and Oceanside could spare. They were sure they could even manage without Alexandria, too, since Michonne had still sent no word on allowing her people to attend the fair yet. People at Hilltop were in high spirits, all things considered. A small few, though, remained paranoid enough to stay behind and protect Hilltop just in case, but the rest of them had their bags and booths packed and were ready to go — Oliver among them. The fair had been dreamed on over all the communities for almost seven years now and something about its longevity was worth taking a risk for.

He went to the stables first thing in the morning to get all the horses ready. He was among some of the first convoys leaving and wanted to stay on schedule. Today though, his duties came with a catch: He had to babysit Lydia. Henry wasn't keen to leave her but he'd come to Hilltop to do a job and Earl wasn't giving him anymore time off just because of a crush.

Lydia manned a wheelbarrow outside a stall while Oliver shovelled manure and soiled-straw into it. At some point, noticing how bored she looked, he asked her, "You know anything about horses?"

"Know what they taste like."

Oliver didn't like hearing that so pretended he hadn't. He instead pointed at Sunday, a cherry bay mare tied up outside her stall.

"You can get to grooming her, if you want?" he said. "It's easy enough. Just take the brush and get all the dirt and dust off her. She's friendly. I'll help you pick her hooves when you're finished."

Lydia wrung her hands and nodded.

"I'll be right in this stall here," Oliver added, spreading straw with a pitchfork.

"So you can keep an eye on me?"

"So I can do my job."

Lydia squinted and looked over to the graveyard. Oliver looked, too. The earth on Isaac's grave was still risen and fresh, like Jesus'. It would take several more months until their graves were flat and grassy like the rest.

"It's weird," Lydia said, brushing down Sunday, "that you bury them."

"What do you do?" Oliver asked.

"Join them."

Lydia was full of things Oliver didn't like hearing.

"It's a shame he didn't make it," Lydia added. "He... Isaac, was one of the kinder ones."

"He said he wasn't at the cemetery," Oliver decided to bring up, "that he was... 'on punishment'. What is that?"

Lydia shrugged and thumbed a series of scars along her forearm, identical to the ones Oliver saw on Isaac's arms weeks ago. "Lashings," she said, "or no food, or a night in the stockade. Isaac was on night six when we attacked you in the cemetery."

Oliver's eyebrows rose. "What did he do to deserve six nights?"

This time Lydia's shrug was a little stiffer. "Because he tried to stop a few guys from having his little sister again."

Oliver shivered.

"Like I said," Lydia told him, "he was one of the kinder ones."

Oliver nodded, believing her.

He sighed. "Do you know his nephew's name? Isaac died before I thought to ask."

Lydia shook her head. "Wouldn't have one. None born now do."

Oliver nodded at the ground, then up at her. "Come on. Let's get to work."

After getting everything finished at the stables they got to helping load all the supplies and equipment and trading goods into a few carriages. When they were done and waiting for people to get in, Lydia found interest in the chicken coop across from them which Oliver didn't see much issue in so long as he could still see her. While he helped Tammy Rose and the baby into the carriage he saw Lydia picking weeds and grass and sticking her fingers through the mesh fence of the coop to feed the hens inside. She was crouched in an odd way where her heels were flat and her knees stuck out by her ears, grinning while the hens pecked at her fingertips.

Oliver went over and leaned against a fence post next to the coop.

Squinting up at him, Lydia said, "Chickens are kinda neat, you know?"

He didn't, particularly, so he shrugged. He could see Quan carrying a barrel of moonshine over to the distillery. They hadn't been able to spend any more time together at all due to the sudden rush to re-prepare for the fair. He wasn't wearing a shirt, and his suspenders were dangling by his thighs. It was torture to look at. Quan waved. Oliver almost stumbled over the fence post in his rush to wave back, then he turned away, cringing at himself. He didn't like this. His body was doing things he wasn't asking it to.

"He says you're like brothers," Lydia said, and for a wild moment Oliver thought she meant Quan but realised she was watching Henry work at the blacksmithery.

"Oh. Yeah," Oliver said. "Carol took us in when we were just kids."

There was a long pause in which Lydia returned her attention to the chickens. Poking her fingers through she finally said, "You guys're lucky to have so much food. Out there, all we'd eat was whatever the land left us. Wild berries, overgrown gardens. We hunted, sometimes, if we got close enough to anything. Sometimes the guardians killed something and we'd share that."

"Guardians," Oliver repeated slowly, verifying the new name in his brain.

Lydia squinted at him as if assuming he was making fun of her. When she realised he wasn't she asked, "What do you call them?"

"Walkers, usually."

"Like in those dragon books?"

Oliver shrugged and made an 'I dunno' noise.

"My dad used to read them to me," Lydia admitted. "He liked to read. I... don't think I even remember how to anymore."

Oliver squinted at the ground. He wanted to explain how that was one of the saddest things he'd ever heard but got this even sadder feeling from not knowing if she would understand why.

"You said you sometimes ate what the walkers killed..." he said instead. "If they killed, say... a person, did you ever..."

"_No,_" she said.

Oliver cleared his throat. "Sorry. It's just... well, we met some. Years back."

"Cannibals?"

He nodded.

"They eat your people?"

Another nod.

"And you got away?"

"No," Oliver answered.

Lydia frowned.

"You killed them," she said.

"We had to survive."

Lydia thought about this. "So, you killed people back then but now you try not to anymore... all because you've got big chicken coops and horse drawn carriages."

Oliver rolled his eyes. "I guess that's a way to explain it."

Lydia's eyebrows were up on her forehead. She shook her head, clearly at a loss with him. "You people are whack."

Oliver briefly thought he was insulted but realised he just found her funny.

Lydia shrugged, a smile tugging her mouth.

"I am grateful though," she said. She glanced at the blacksmithery. "Henry. He is kind. You've all been kind."

* * *

They got going early enough that the morning chill sent them off shivering in their coats. Oliver accompanied a convoy of three carriages. Tara, Magna, and Yumiko went in one while Gage, Addy, Rodney, and Kal went in another and Earl drove the last carriage with Tammy Rose and the baby by his side and Lydia, Henry, Kelly, and Connie squeezed in the back among the supplies. Oscar, Oliver, and Marco rode alongside them. As the afternoon drew on, still with several hours until Kingdom, the convoy finally stopped when they came to a fallen tree. It had flattened a car in its fall and blocked the road.

"Storm the other day must've knocked it down," Tara said. "We should get the road clear before the other convoys come through."

She organised people into two groups. One to help get the road clear and the other to set up a guarded perimeter. Oliver was put on tree clearing duty so he dismounted and led Roan to one of the carriages to tether.

"I should be giving y'all a hand," Earl complained from inside, cradling the baby in his arms.

Tammy Rose tutted. "Like you haven't hurt yourself enough lately."

Earl looked at her. "Oh, and I suppose you're gettin' younger?"

"Are you kidding?" she asked. "After being up all night with this little bundle of joy, my back is shot to hell."

Earl chuckled. "This little baby deserves something better than a couple of old farts like me and you. Especially you."

"Earl," she said. "We're not letting go of this baby. I've even thought of a name."

Earl smiled at her. "What's that, hon?"

"Adam."

He put an arm around his wife's shoulders. "Feels good to have a little one to hold, don't it?"

"Takes me back to our Ken."

Lydia asked who Ken was and Oliver, seeing that Roan was secure, took it as his moment to leave. Over at the tree trunk he could see at one glance that it had been rotting out for decades. He guessed it hadn't taken much from the storm earlier in the week to finally finish it off. He felt a squeeze on his arm and turned to Connie. She handed him a spare axe. It was heavy but if he took his time he'd manage. He thanked her and she signed something but Oliver only got the first word.

"Thanks — what?" he asked.

Kelly chimed in for her, snickering. "This..." she said, repeating Connie's previous sign by pressing her fists at the knuckles with her thumbs touching atop. "...means 'sweetheart'. So Connie said, 'Thanks, _sweetheart.'_"

Connie repeated herself with her hands and pulled a teasing face. Oliver mumbled the word under his breath to himself, "Sweetheart," forgetting she could read his lips, like he had back with the horses. He snickered and she laughed silently at him. They got to chopping. They worked for a little while before Yumiko and Magna returned from perimeter check.

"Tara!" Yumiko called out. "Sickos!"

"Headed this way!" Magna yelled.

"How many?"

"Maybe ten," Yumiko said, "it's hard to tell. They're coming out of the trees."

"We can handle them," Kelly said.

Connie nodded.

"Yeah, but it could be those psychos in the masks," Tara said.

Oliver and several others looked at Lydia accusingly but she shook her head.

"I don't know," she said. "Mom's never come out this way."

"She would for you," Tara hissed. "Earl, hitch the horses!"

"On it."

"Kal, Marco, Oscar, with me," Tara added. She pointed at Addy, Gage, and Rodney. "You three, guard the wagons. Oliver, Henry, keep your eyes on Lydia. All of you, stay sharp!"

They went to their posts.

"I don't think it's them," Lydia insisted.

"You'd tell us if it was, right?" Henry asked her.

"Of course."

Oliver told them to shut up and focus. Discarding the heavy axe he instead unsheathed his knife and stood with Gage, Rodney, and Addy by the carriage. The walkers closed in. He saw no seams or weapons.

"Lydia?"

"Not them. I don't think."

"Let's go!"

Breaking knees. Slashing through skulls. More walkers were coming from the treeline either side. Swamping the carriage. Lydia was kicking heads while Henry was caving them in with his stick. Oliver saw Tammy Rose place Adam inside a chest and climb down to help Earl who was being surrounded. Oliver ran to help. More were coming from behind him. When he looked back the carriage was rocking side to side. Henry and Lydia were doing what they could. Over at the second carriage the others were struggling, too.

Then there were hoof-beats.

Oliver wasn't sure when they began but he twisted around and saw what looked like a small army of cowboys galloping along the road towards them. They dismounted and sprinted forward, weapons drawn. They brought the cluster down in minutes. Everybody regrouped and checked each other were unharmed. One of the strangers who wore a tan Stetson hat and a beard nodded in greeting.

"Everyone alright?" he asked.

"We think so," Tara said. "Who the hell are you guys?"

"Ozzy," the Stetson wearer said, "this is my right hand man, Alec."

Everyone stared at them.

"We are the Highwaymen," Ozzy added, "your escorts to the fair, at your service."

With the Highwaymen leading the way everyone arrived safely to the Kingdom before sundown. As they rode through the gates Oliver spotted Carol waiting for them. He leaped off his horse and grabbed her. He was exhausted after the journey but still managed to almost lift her over his shoulder. She laughed and kissed his hair and then Henry hugged her, too. Oliver hugged Ezekiel, too, and Jerry, and his son, Ezra, at six years old, and daughter, Aliyah, at four.

"Mom?" Henry said, and gestured to Lydia beside him. "I'd like you to meet Lydia."

* * *

_Stand for us  
Or run from us  
Stand for us  
Or break our trust..._

* * *

**Notes**

Song was "Kick in the Head" by Lontalius.

I stand by Morgan naming them 'walkers' after GoT. I took a few bits of dialogue from the carl/Lydia arc in Issue 138 of the comics.

I love Connie.

As always,  
Happy reading.


	9. The Calm Before, Part 1: An Easy Part

**fandomismylife** lmao glad you liked that. I love writing stuff about the Whisperers. I just think the show kept a lot back to keep its content ratings consistent so it would hint at stuff but never really touch on it properly like the comic did. Yeah there's more on Oliver and Lydia's friendship. Thanks so much!

* * *

_CW: __S__exual __references__._

* * *

_Dreamcatcher in the rear-view mirror  
Hasn't caught a thing yet  
Twenty dollars in souvenirs  
Anything's worth trying_

_To stay out of your nightmares  
Few hours in your dreams last night  
Always end up dying  
You said because of course I did..._

* * *

As thrilled to meed her youngest son's first girlfriend as Carol was she was equally as horrified to learn about where she had come from. She, Ezekiel, Tara, and Daryl discussed the Whisperer matter all evening — no doubt the probability of an attack, or the horde, and what to do to protect themselves. Oliver spent most of his time getting settled into Henry's old room, which they were sharing with Lydia. Oliver didn't mind this except for the few times he walked in on them making out even when he'd only left the room for a few moments to get their things; Oliver used these opportunities to casually mention to Lydia that Henry snored like a motorbike in his sleep, not to mention the gas. Lots of noogies and nut taps were served. Lydia paid little attention to their bickering and instead spent most of her time looking out over Kingdom through the window. Finally Carol and Ezekiel came around to spend some time together as a family. They ate cobbler in the canteen and helped out with the last few preparations for the fair for tomorrow, and when tomorrow came Oliver awoke early to get a head start on setting up the stables for the fair.

Oscar was there, just as eager. They got work done hours in advance. The fair hadn't even began yet. Still, the King was gathering soldiers outside the theatre, next to the stables. Oliver and Oscar listened to them organising some volunteers to patrol the area for the incoming convoys safety.

"I'll do the morning shift?" Oliver offered. "Oscar and I are alternating shifts with the horse-back rides anyway."

"That would be most appeasing," Ezekiel told him.

"I'll go with him," Quan volunteered. "Papa Bear can spare me for a few hours."

"I'm sure," Ezekiel said, "for a good cause."

Quan bowed his head. Oliver tried not to show how pleased he was. It would be the first time he and Quan had spent any time together since the night at the windmill.

They saddled their horses and set off at once.

Along their allocated road they met nine convoys between 6AM and 10AM before being relieved from their duties and sent home by the next shift of patrollers, Ozzy and Alec, the two Highwaymen Oliver had met the day before. Deciding to take a shortcut back to Kingdom Oliver and Quan rode through a tree-hooded pasture which would take them back in half the time. The sun was warm and the trees were noisy with life and Quan was talking idly about an old Sanctuary friend, Brandon, from Alexandria who he was hoping to catch up with today and Oliver listened happily, feeling totally calm.

Quan nudge his horse, Clementine, close enough to reach over and brush his knuckles against Oliver's knee. It was nice until Roan squealed and tried to bite Clementine but missed and caught Quan's shin instead.

"_Ow!_" Quan yelped.

"Fanculo," Oliver laughed, reining Roan's head away.

"Man, your horse has issues!" Quan grumbled, steering Clementine a safer distance away and rubbing his leg.

"Come here," Oliver said as he dismounted and slung his reins over a tree branch.

Quan frowned at him, turning his horse around. "What are you doing?"

In response Oliver retrieved a small first aid kit from his saddlebag and shook it in Quan's direction. Quan dismounted his horse. Oliver stepped over to him, limping on his lousy leg only slightly after riding for so long. He knelt and rolled up Quan's pant leg. A small dribble of blood ran down his shin. Oliver cleaned it with water from a bottle and then wrapped some gauze around it and tied it, then he stood up.

"Should be good until we get back."

"Thanks."

Oliver watched him and then he kissed him. When he pulled back Quan was watching him in a very odd way. Suddenly he threw Clementine's reins over the nearest shrub and walked forward. On reflex Oliver backed up against the nearest tree trunk and laughed. Quan didn't. He stood very close and then suddenly he dropped to his knees — this made Oliver stop laughing. Quan undid Oliver's belt buckle but paused momentarily to peer up at him. It took Oliver a few desperate seconds to realise that Quan was waiting for consent.

So Oliver nodded.

He swallowed and said, "Come on, Quan..."

And then he pushed his head back against the tree trunk. He shuddered. He held Quan's jaw gently in his hand and got this feeling again like this was the most beautiful thing, the most amazing and perfect thing, and finally when it was over and some sensation came back to Oliver's face again he asked to return the favour, and Quan let him.

* * *

After returning to Kingdom together Quan and Oliver slapped hands goodbye, then Quan left for his distillery booth while Oliver went and tended to the horses. He gave out rides in the round pen for most of the remaining morning with nothing on his mind but the pleasant time he'd spent in the woods earlier with Quan, as well as the promise he'd made to watch a movie in the theatre with Enid later. It was strange not feeling guilty for having a good time. Strange but nice.

Like tradition cobbler was being prepared for lunch. For breakfast, however, it was a grand fruit salad with the King's famous pomegranate arils sprinkled on top — Oliver had long since grown out of his pomegranate grudge but still found the sense of humour to laugh at himself over them. Quan invited him to eat with him and Papa Bear when they spotted him wondering around searching for somewhere to sit. Papa Bear handed Oliver a paper cup filled with something frothy and bitter. Oliver drank it with his fruit happily as Papa Bear and Quan chatted together. Papa Bear was a patient, calming, old man who looked at Quan in the same way most fathers might look at their own sons, with joy and diligence. There must've been a lot of love there, Oliver could tell. He wondered if Papa Bear knew about them yet, or if there even was a 'them' at this point at all, but of course he didn't risk outing Quan by asking, especially since he didn't even know if Quan was out in the first place.

After eating, Papa Bear went to sort some things at the distillery booth. As Oliver and Quan carried their drinks across the Kingdom towards the theatre. Carol spotted them half way there and made a bee line over to them.

"You seen Henry?" she asked.

Oliver shook his head. "Probably heading to watch Ezekiel's speech like the rest of us. Come on, let's go."

"Who's this?" Carol asked quickly.

"Oh," Oliver said, the frothy drink from before already going to his head. "This is my—"

"Friend," Quan said. "I'm Quan." He shook her hand, skilfully ignoring Oliver's sideways glance. Had Quan thought Oliver was going to say 'boyfriend'? Even in Oliver's cluelessness he knew something like that was way too presumptuous. Surely Quan knew he understood that, too? "I work at Hilltop's distillery."

"Lovely to meet you, Quan."

"You, too, ma'am— or, should I call you... Your Majesty?"

"Ma'am works."

"Yes, ma'am," Quan said in a relieved sounding way.

Carol grinned, then gestured her head for them to get going. Quan glanced at Oliver as they went. Oliver scoffed and rolled his eyes. They stood in the courtyard with the growing crowd. Henry waded through with Lydia in tow to meet them. Quan spotted Brandon among the crowd and went to greet him, slapping hands with Oliver as he left. Oliver searched the crowd for others from Alexandria but saw none that he recognised. He tried not to dwell on it, and instead put his prosthetic arm around Carol's shoulder and drank another gulp of what he suspected now was beer. They gazed up at Ezekiel on the theatre balcony overlooking them all. Beside him was a large statue of his late tigress, Shiva, mounted with her mouth agape in a silent roar that Oliver swore he could still hear. Enid showed up at the last minute pulling Alden through the crowd behind her to stand by Oliver's side, carrying their own paper cups of beer in their hands and asking him if he'd heard about Ms. Maitlin's candy-apple booth. He chuckled and said he hadn't just as the King began his speech.

"I stand before you today at the start of a new tomorrow," the King called out, drowning out all and any sugar and alcohol-fuelled conversations. "A tomorrow made possible by the sacrifices of many over the years. Among them, a man whose mission was to build community and strengthen the bonds between us. It took us far too long to fulfil the promise of what Rick Grimes and his son, Carl, envisioned."

Carol touched her chin to Oliver's collarbone. Oliver inhaled calmly.

The sun was warm on his face.

"The same promise Paul Rovia," Ezekiel went on, "better known to most as 'Jesus', believed in when he brought us all together those many years ago. The same promise many others fought and died for."

He opened his arms and the crowd began to cheer names.

"Glenn and Abraham!"

"Sasha and Tyreese!"

"And Denise!" Tara called out.

"And Bob!"

"Nell!" Enid yelled. "And Mikey, and Noah!"

"Benjamin!" Henry said.

"Lani!" Granny cheered, Juni by her side.

"Levi!" Dianne called out. "And Morayo!"

"Joey, and Lei!"

"Beth!"

"Hershel!"

"Our Ken!"

"Lizzie," Carol said, more to herself than the crowd, shutting her eyes, "and Mika." She tilted her head and rested it on Oliver's shoulder. "And Patrick," she added, and Oliver felt a strong swell of love for her in his chest.

The King smiled over them all.

"We've always been bound to each other," he said. "We always will be. We fought our way back to each other. We have grown. The crossing over the river may be gone but we have rebuilt a bridge, nonetheless."

People applauded.

"Today is proof that we can unite, not against a common enemy but for the common good. So eat, drink, trade, and be merry... 'cause we got a lotta lost time to make up for."

Jerry stepped forward. "Let the First Annual Inter-community Reunification fair begin!"

People laughed.

"Jerry," Ezekiel hissed. "We changed that."

"For reals? F. A. I. R. fair?"

"It's too many — never mind." Ezekiel opened his arms again and yelled, "Let the Fair of New Beginning... _begin!_"

Someone began playing folk music. Ezra opened a large crate of doves and their white flume span up into the sky and off across the Kingdom. People cheered and clapped and laughed as they dispersed across the community. Dog and Bean were wrestling each other over a broken chair and Daryl had to swat them away from it. Connie grinned at him.

While Enid and Alden went to find Ms. Maitlin's candy-apple stand Oliver and Carol went to congratulate the King on his speech. Henry was there with Lydia. She had her arms crossed over her chest but seemed to manage easing up very slightly when Carol squeezed her shoulder. Ezekiel thanked the four of them for their support just as someone in the distanced called for the gate to be opened for another incoming convoy.

"It's just a shame that a few of us aren't coming," the King said, because barely any from Alexandria had arrived. Or so they thought.

"Guys..."

Henry was watching the gate. The others looked, too. Michonne drove a horse-drawn truck-carriage in through the gate. By her side in the passenger seat sat a little girl with long brunette hair. Oliver's heart suddenly gave a hard jolt, then span. He was walking before he'd given his legs permission to. He stopped short of the carriage, however, and remembered to act like a normal person again. Behind Michonne and the girl, in the middle row of seats, sat Siddiq, Aaron, and another little girl who Oliver knew must have been Gracie. In the very back row of seats sat Rosita and Gabriel holding hands. Oliver hadn't seen Gabriel in years. He wore a black, felt, boater hat now and his blind right eye stood out pale against his dark, stern face. He smiled and waved with the rest of them. Oliver waved dumbly back.

"Michonne?" Carol said at Oliver's side.

"We were in the neighbourhood, so..."

Oliver looked again at the little girl sitting next to her. She was the size of a peanut and carried a Colt Python on her hip behind the hem of her dress and a small katana behind her back. She had her brother's hair and freckles.

"Judith," he said. "Hi..."

Michonne smiled at her, nodding.

Judith peered at them all curiously from the carriage.

"Do you remember us?" Carol asked her. Ezekiel squeezed her hand.

"I've been drawing pictures of you since I was little," Judith said. "You're Carol, and you're the King."

Oliver had to wipe his face. "Do... you know who I am?"

Judith surveyed him. Her eyes lingered on his prosthetic arm and the scars on his lip and temple and then one of her eyebrows rose into her forehead. "Oliver?"

He nodded, chest soaring.

Judith laughed. "You're a lot older than I remember you."

Oliver had to force himself not to burst into tears. Instead he laughed.

Beside him Carol chuckled, too.

Judith pointed at her. "And your hair got _really_ long."

"It did!" Carol said, twirling a lock around her finger.

Michonne smiled and inhaled, like she was relieved. She rubbed Judith's back. Aaron, Gracie, Rosita, Gabriel, Siddiq, and Barbara got out of the carriage and greeted Oliver, Carol, Henry, Lydia, and the King properly. It felt good to greet them all like old friends again.

"Gather up all the leaders," Michonne said. "We have a lot to talk about."

* * *

Half and hour later inside the theatre auditorium Oliver, Judith, Henry, and Lydia watched from the first row as Michonne, Ezekiel, Carol, Tara, Gabriel, and Rachel gathered around a small table up on stage. The only light to see them by came from the glowing lanterns along the walls and the small bit of sunlight coming in from the door. Tara lit another lantern and set it on the table, then stood back to listen to what Michonne had to say.

"I know I haven't always seen eye-to-eye with everyone in this room, but I never stopped caring about any of you." Michonne glanced at Oliver but he managed to avoid her eyes in time. She stared for several moments. Then turned again to Tara. "I was just trying to protect my family and do right by my people. But Alexandria's future is here. Together, with you. And we lost sight of that for a while. But... I'm here now. _We're_ here now."

There was quiet for a moment. Oliver hoped he didn't look as miserable as he suddenly felt.

"I've taken an informal vote with the other council members at the fair," Gabriel said, "and we all agree. Alexandria is willing to grant asylum to Lydia. She's one of us now and we are happy to treat her as such. We hope the rest of you can join us in doing the same."

"Thank you," Lydia said. "I'll do whatever I can to earn my keep, and pay you back."

"If her mother retaliates it's gonna be against Hilltop," Tara said, "not Alexandria."

"I know," Michonne said, "and, look, if it had been me, I'd have made her leave."

Oliver grimaced at the floor.

"Then you know how dangerous this is," Tara said to her.

"I do," Michonne said. "I also know why Rick didn't trust me when I showed up at the gates of the prison. And how people didn't trust you after seeing you on the other side of the Governor's firing line."

"I was gonna kill you on sight when you washed up on our shore," Rachel said to Tara.

"Okay, okay," Tara said. "Fair."

"Lydia didn't choose where she came from," Michonne said, "but she chose where she wanted to be. Just like everybody in this room."

"Alpha threatened us with a herd — _a horde_," Tara said, "but we found one of her people outside the gates. He was bit and we took in his baby nephew. On his death bed he told us that Alpha broke her rules to come get Lydia and now that we've shown her up, she'll hit us hard."

"Know where the herd is coming from?"

"We think so, and we're keeping an eye out. If it shows up at all it'll be within the next few months. It's why we decided to come here — to enjoy the fair while we could, sure, but also to warn the rest of you. When we go back to Hilltop, we'll need reinforcements."

"Good idea," Carol said. "I'll take some from the Kingdom. We'll have scouts going back and forth between here and Hilltop for the next few days until the fair is over. If any go missing or return and tell us there's been an attack, we'll be ready to fight."

"Oceanside can spare some soldiers," Rachel said.

"Alexandria can, too," Gabriel added.

"What about right now?" Oliver said. "They could track us here."

"They haven't come this far before," Lydia said.

"But they could," Carol said. "Oliver's got a point. We should focus on protecting the fair, too."

"We'll put more people on patrol with the Highwaymen," Tara said.

"Agreed," Gabriel said. "However, sending reinforcements and adding more people to the patrolling crews is only a short-term solution. Especially for when you go back to Hilltop."

Michonne seemed to take this as her cue to add, "In order to face this threat, the four communities have to present a united front, which is why I'm proposing a Mutual Protection Pact. An attack against one community is an attack against all of us."

"Together, we can make these people think twice before moving against the Hilltop," Gabriel said.

Ezekiel was grinning. "The leadership of the Kingdom is very amenable to this idea."

"Oceanside's down," Rachel said.

"Okay, so, how do we seal it?" Tara asked, chuckling. "Spit and shake, blood oath — what?"

Ezekiel waved a finger. "I have just the thing."

He went to the supply room and brought out a large scroll of parchment. Oliver remembered the written contract from long enough ago that the Sanctuary was even a part of it, among Hilltop, Alexandria, Kingdom, and Oceanside. Last he heard it was unsigned and collecting dust in the back of Michonne's closet.

Seems she thought so, too. "What? How did you—"

"Well, he's magic, obviously," Tara joked. She looked at Michonne guiltily. "I... may have taken a few things with me when I left. I did what I thought was right. I'm sorry for the way it went down."

"Me, too," Michonne admitted. "And thank you. You were right."

"You were, too."

"I knew this day would come. Never doubted it for a moment," Ezekiel said, signing the contract besides the small-printed _'Kingdom'_. "John Hancock, eat your heart out."

Carol signed under his name. Oliver hid a grin behind his hand. Judith was swinging her legs excitedly under her seat next to him. Rachel signed next for Oceanside, then Tara for Hilltop. She handed the pen to Michonne, who smiled and she shook her head and held the pen out to Gabriel instead.

"It should be the head of the council," she said.

Gabriel took the pen from her and nodded.

He signed for Alexandria.

Judith tapped Oliver's prosthetic arm — Oliver heard the _'clink-clink' _of her fingernail against thermal plastic. He looked at her and she handed him a small wooden carving.

It was an owl.

"Mom helped me make it for you," she whispered.

Oliver smiled at it, put it to his chin, then wrapped his arm around Judith's shoulders.

"Thanks, Judy."

* * *

Oliver went back to the stables for a while to give Oscar a chance to explore the fair. Judith had a ride around on one of the ponies and then she left to go dunk Eugene in the dunk tank. The fair was everything Oliver had ever imagined. Better even, since for a long time he doubted it would ever happen at all. From the stables he could see Enid giving a workshop on CPR. Alice and Frankie were running a clothing stall under the gazebo. Granny and Juni were trading home-made puzzles and boardgames that Juni had invented himself. Quan and Papa Bear had decorated their distillery booth with a sign that read: _'Papa Bear's Hilltop Hooch + Papa Quan's Lightnin' Shine. Mmm good!' _Marco, Alden, and Earl were in their booth by the main building trading their blacksmithing products, with Tammy Rose tending to Adam nearby. Henry and Lydia were wandering through idly. Kids were playing skip-rope. People were laughing and singing and having picnics and browsing stalls.

"Mr. Deep Purple!"

Oliver spun around and saw Luke coming towards him through the crowd with a guitar over his shoulder and a kazoo in hand.

"Oh, no," Oliver said, laughing. "You weren't kidding?"

"Absolutely not, my friend."

Luke handed over the kazoo through the fence and Oliver, who was having trouble not grinning, attempted to act like he wasn't as excited for this as he really was.

"Well, _I_ was kidding," Oliver said and saw Luke's face fall for a millisecond before he added quickly, "about the kazoo. Got a spare guitar lying around?"

Luke beamed. He pocketed the kazoo. "Absolutely, I do!"

"Okay, I'll see what I can do with my hook."

"You'll sing with us, too, right?"

"Right," Oliver said. "Sure."

Luke was ecstatic. It took him a moment to stop vibrating.

"Hey you doing anything right now?" he asked at twice the normal speed.

"Just keeping the horses company. Rides have slowed down for lunch."

Luke seemed to like this news and ushered Oliver out of the pen. "Come with me."

"Where are we going?"

"To get the third member of our trio!" Luke cheered, and since his positivity was contagious Oliver was suddenly filled with a warmth that made him grin ear-to-ear. They found Alden with Enid gnawing on their successfully acquired candy-apples as they wandered through the fair. Before Luke said anything Alden, upon spotting him, waved his hands and shook his head.

"No, no, no," he said. "Remember our bet, man."

"Hey..." Luke caught up with them, pulling Oliver along by linking their arms together and gripping Oliver's hook in both his hands, talking animatedly so that Oliver's arms were being swung round. "I know that I technically lost but—"

"There was nothing technical about it. You lost."

Luke tutted and turned to Enid. "Will you please make this bozo see reason?"

"I don't even know what you're all arguing about," Enid said.

"Oliver and I are playing a little sing song after the movie tonight," Luke explained. "Guitars and everything. And we're trying to make 'A Night With Luke and Friend' into 'A Night With Luke and Friend_s_ — _plural_, see?"

"I do see," Enid said. She turned to Alden with a serious look on her face. "It seems you've no choice, Al."

"What?!"

"You can't let them go out onstage by themselves."

"They aren't by themselves!"

"You're doing this," Enid instructed stubbornly. "I want to hear my crooner boyfriend croon."

Alden stared at her, face pink. "Boyfriend?"

Enid's smile faltered as she retraced her last words. She gave a nervous laugh and shrugged. "Well, yeah. You're my boyfriend. I mean, I think you are, are you?"

"I am," he said.

"Good," Enid said, tapping their candy-apples.

Meanwhile outside of their rose-bubble Luke made a squirmy noise and Oliver grinned awkwardly at the couple before him, arms crossed — as Luke had mercifully let his hook go by then. Enid and Alden turned to them, as if only just remembering where they were.

"Aw, _congratulations_," Luke cheered, putting his arms around their shoulders. "You guys are adorable. Okay, could we get back to the task at hand here?"

"Right," Alden said. He looked at Enid. "Sorry, girlfriend. He lost the bet."

"No, no, no, no," Luke insisted. "Forget the bet. The bet's confusing. It's a wash. Oliver's already in."

"You are?" Alden asked him.

"Well, yeah, of course," Oliver answered. "I mean, how am I supposed to say no to him?" It was an honest question even if it had meant to be a joke. Oliver was smiling from the inside out.

"Aaand," Luke went on, patting Alden on the back, "Enid wants to hear you sing."

"I mean, you know, I said that explicitly," she told him.

Luke grinned like this had proven his point. "Sing for her, man. _Sing for heeeer!_"

They were all laughing except Alden who put his arm over Enid's shoulder and sped up.

"Come on!" Luke called out, standing with his arms open so that one bumped Oliver in the nose. "You're gonna think about it, though, right?"

Backs to them both, Alden just shrugged while Enid twisted round to smile and wave goodbye. Luke turned to smile at Oliver and made an encouraging, "Ehh?" noise to which Oliver grunted and nodded vaguely to — apparently they were on a noise-instead-of-speech level of communication now. Connie and Kelly were standing nearby and Luke nodded to them, too, then strode off with a huge grin on his face. Oliver watched him go with a smile on his own face until, catching himself drifting too far into elation, he cleared his throat and went back to the stables.

* * *

Sometime later Oscar swapped watch with Oliver again. He got lunch and went and found a seat at an empty bench in the picnic area. As he ate his fish cobbler he intended to read but found himself distracted and laughing at Jerry playing horsey with Ezra, Aliyah, and Judith. At some point Jerry took a mouthful of grass, his son sitting on his back, while Judith knelt before them rearing up on her knees and neighing. Jerry was a good father — one of those who seemed born for it which Oliver thought was funny considering the thing he and Jerry had bonded over most years ago had been cannabis. Though Jerry quit all that since having children. Oliver, too, by influence.

Oliver's smile fell when Michonne and Siddiq strolled over and stood by his bench, chatting about the children. Oliver sat up straighter, uncomfortable, and focussed on his book and his cobbler. After a minute of watching Jerry and the kids Siddiq exchanged a shoulder bump with Michonne and left on his own. Oliver cringed. He knew Michonne wanted to talk to him alone. He could sense it. When she turned her head and opened her mouth Oliver cut her off and said, "Judith's..." but he couldn't think of the word.

Michonne sighed and nodded anyway.

"Amazing," she said. "I know..."

Oliver squinted over his book and watched the others play. Michonne was still standing there beside his bench. He supposed after what she did today he should at least say something, even if it was only small.

"Err... thank you, for the owl sculpture."

Michonne smiled.

Her smile, like usual, did not last long.

"Can I sit?" she asked, and when Oliver nodded she sat next to him, eyes on her knees. "Oliver, I've wanted to explain to you for a long time about... about what happened... with Jocelyn and the children."

"We don't have to talk about it."

"_We do!_" Michonne said suddenly, then more weakly. "We do..."

Oliver gritted his teeth. He looked in Michonne's eyes. Her face was all twisted up and then all of a sudden she relaxed.

"Please," she said. "I want to."

Oliver frowned at her, so hurt, for so long.

He'd do anything to make it stop.

Anything, so he told her, "Okay."

Michonne inhaled. A tear fell and she swatted it away quickly.

"It was spring," she said, "right before RJ was born. You would've been eighteen."

Oliver remembered that time in his life. He'd been like a flock of migrating birds if a flock meant just himself and his horse. Both together, always on the move between Hilltop, Alexandria, and the Kingdom, with enough time between the three that he'd felt like he'd belonged to it. To the between. He hadn't minded. It had felt better to keep moving back then. To never dwell too long on the 'was' or the 'is' only the 'next'.

"Jocelyn showed up at the gates," Michonne went on. "Crazy thing was, I knew her before the Turn. I trusted her right away. Let her and all seven of her children in without question. None were her own. She said their parents hadn't made it, but that the kids had. At the time, despite how close my due date was, I was out a lot, searching… for Rick."

Oliver remembered rumours about it. The never-ending search party. Once he'd even heard from Cyndie that Daryl had been spotted searching the coast.

"Jocelyn's kids were skilled," Michonne explained. "They were always catching and cooking things they'd hunted themselves. We ate well in the few weeks they were around. They were having sleepovers with Judith and the rest of our kids all the time, too. Then... one morning… one_ normal_ morning, Jocelyn and all the children, even ours, were gone."

She stared ahead of her.

"The infirmary had been raided, Bob Miller killed, the sewer grate left open," she explained. "Everybody split up into groups. I went and found Daryl, to help track. We found a trail. I... couldn't believe Jocelyn had done it. She was a friend, you know? Like, a real one. We went through everything together. Heartbreak. Losing my mom. I wanted her to be that again. I needed it, and I let my guard down. Daryl told me some people just have evil in their hearts."

Michonne sighed heavily.

"Tracks led us to a school," she said. "We were ambushed and tied up. They... burned crosses, target marks... into our backs. Jocelyn told them to be strong. We escaped. I... killed them. All of them but one little girl who ran away. Judith and the rest of our kids were hiding in a trailer. Daryl and I, we took them home."

Her chin shook.

She looked at Oliver.

She said, "You showed up a few weeks later. I couldn't let you in. I couldn't afford to put anyone else at risk."

Oliver watched her, tears welling.

Michonne sniffed and wiped her eyes.

"Judith remembers what happened," she admitted, "with Jocelyn and the kids. She said they made it all seem like a game. I thought, with all the time that's passed, she didn't remember it. I _hoped_ she didn't. But the truth was, she never said anything about it because she didn't want to make me sad."

She squeezed her lips together.

"She told me the other day, _'Loving someone means doing whatever it takes to keep them safe.'_ She..." Michonne took a breath and smiled up at the sky. "She asked when we stopped loving you, and Daryl, and Maggie, and Carol, and the King. I never meant for her to think that... I never meant... for _you_ to..."

Oliver felt tears fall onto his lap, hurt barrelling through him but in a different way now than before. In a way that felt more like relief and grief all mixed up into one and when he took Michonne's hand in his she sobbed, and then they were holding each other in their arms and Michonne's hug felt like it always had — strong and warm and with a mouthful of dreadlocks. He missed it so badly that the comfort of it was painful.

"I came today because Judith was right," Michonne said into his shoulder. "We have to protect the people we love. _All_ the people we love. And I will, from now on. I promise."

* * *

_Always managed to move in  
Right next to the cemeteries  
And never far from hospitals  
I don't know what that tells you about me_

_Pulling thorns out of my palm  
Working midnight surgery  
When you cut a hole into my skull  
Do you hate what you see?  
Like I do..._

* * *

**Notes**

Song was "Souvenir" BOYGENIUS by from the flashback episode 'Scars'.

As always,  
Happy reading.


	10. The Calm Before, Part 2: Small Sighs

**fandomismylife **Thank you for the support so much! I cannot express how happy your comments make me!

* * *

_AN: COVID-19 boring tf out of me while simultaneously scaring tf out of me so here's another chapter in the same __12 hours because I don't have any other coping mechanisms._

_C__W__: Body horror and gore._

* * *

_Something's wrong when you regret  
Things that haven't happened yet  
But it's a glorious day when morning comes  
Without that feeling of alarm_

_So, rise and shine  
Now's the time to be alive  
To stay awake and be with me a while  
And smile..._

* * *

Miles and Hilde's scheduled convoy hadn't yet arrived even though they were among the first few to leave Hilltop. A small group consisting of Daryl, Carol, Michonne, Yumiko, and Magna prepared to head off with some of the Highwaymen to look for them. They were keeping things as quiet as possible as not to make people anxious. Only Oliver, Judith, Ezekiel, Henry, Luke, Connie, and Kelly came to see them all off.

"Guys," Yumiko said to her friends who were all huddled into a group hug, "we won't be long."

They parted and looked at her.

Yumiko put a hand on Luke's shoulder. "Break a leg tonight."

"Alright," he said, unable to hide his grin. "Want you back for the second act, though."

"Second act?" Oliver asked.

"We will be," Magna answered Luke.

"Alright."

Oliver was detracted because Michonne hugged him. Dog followed Connie off back towards the fair. She waved to Daryl over her shoulder and he stood and waved back at her with this squinting look on his face like he was confused about something. He stopped when he saw Oliver smiling idly at him and then he stepped over and pulled Oliver in for a hug by the shoulder.

"Take care of your mom for me."

"What?" Oliver asked him. "Are you leaving?"

"After we find Hilde and Miles, yeah," Daryl said. "Gonna head back to Hilltop."

"Then on to the top of your mountain?" Oliver asked, and Daryl shrugged and chewed his mouth, and Oliver didn't want to sound disappointed so he smiled politely and said, "Be kind to yourself, Daryl. Chin up, eh?"

Daryl hugged him again, then he stepped away and pointed at Henry. "You look after your mom, too, hmm?"

"Yeah."

At that Carol hugged Henry and then Oliver. She seemed worried. Oliver didn't blame her — this whole situation with Miles and Hilde had a dark, foreboding feeling to it and for some reason it felt like a bad idea to split up, but with two missing people they had no choice. Oliver held Carol tight. Finally she stepped away and turned to say goodbye to Ezekiel.

The search party left. Luke and Oliver went and collected Alden for a quick —and very much needed— rehearsal before the show later. Organising was passionate and confusing mostly and there was far too much paper especially considering Oliver had a guitar in his only hand. As well as that Alden seemed to enjoy pushing Luke's buttons and Oliver wasn't argumentative enough to try to chime in more than a few nods to keep some sense of peace, and for the most part just kept his mouth shut until he was told to sing.

Enid seemed to be enjoying herself, though.

"Isn't the movie starting soon?" Oliver said to her.

"Oh, right." Enid looked at Luke guilty. "You mind?"

"Nah, go on," Luke said. "But, Mr. Deep Purple, be back here with us for eight-thirty, sharp."

Oliver saluted him, unable to wipe the stupid grin off his face. He stood aside as Enid jumped up on stage and gave Alden a kiss goodbye. Moments later she grabbed Oliver's hook and led the way to the theatre. Bean showed up out of nowhere to accompany them.

"Hold on," Oliver said, "I gotta grab something first."

"I'll meet you in there?"

"Okay."

Bean went on with Enid while Oliver ran to his headquarters inside the King and Queen's block, grabbed Carl's Stetson hat, then ran back across Kingdom and arrived inside the theatre a few minutes later. The auditorium was filled with people finding their seats. Oliver spotted Quan near the middle with his friend, Brandon, and even though Oliver wasn't planning to sit with them he still noticed Quan pointedly not look in his direction as he searched for Enid. Oliver brushed it off easily. It was a crowded room. Perhaps Quan hadn't noticed him? Enid and Judith were sitting on the same row as Jerry and his family. They had saved a seat. Bean sat at the end of the aisle panting and watching people pass by. Oliver shuffled across seats and sat between Judith and Enid. He placed the Stetson hat in Judith's lap.

"What's this?" Judith asked.

"It was Carl's," Oliver said. "I kept it because I missed him. It kept him with me. And it kept your dad with him. It used to make your brother feel as strong and brave as him, and it helped him when he felt afraid. Maybe it'll help you, too."

She ran her hands around the wide brown rim for a moment.

"Do you still miss him?" she asked. "Do you still miss Carl?"

Oliver nodded. "Every day, Jude."

She gave him a puzzled look. "Then, are you sure I should have it?"

Oliver nodded again.

He placed it on top of her head. "He'd want me to give it to you."

Judith smiled up at him, craning her neck to see past the Stetson rim which made them both laugh. As the movie was being set up someone was going around handing out drinks and candy. Oliver shared a bowl of sweetened popcorn between himself, Enid, and Judith — he had to keep handing Judith handfuls though because she couldn't reach far enough without kneeling in her seat.

The movie was some cartoon Oliver vaguely remembered as a child. It was colourful and loud and bright. Everyone was stunned and captivated. Judith had to take the popcorn bowl for herself when Oliver forgot to keep sharing. Too soon Enid tapped his arm and signalled that it was time to go prepare for the show. She and he waved goodbye to the others and crept along the aisle and, with Bean in toe, they headed along the centre row of the auditorium towards the exit. Oliver managed to catch Quan's attention on the way and waved him over. Quan looked away and raised his hand over his face.

"I'll be a sec," Oliver said to Enid. She waited by the door while Oliver stepped along the back row of seats behind the audience. He tapped Quan's shoulder. Quan turned to him. He raised his eyebrows in a shocked sort of way. His friend, Brandon, turned around, too, looking puzzled and amused.

"I wanted to invite you to come to the concert," Oliver explained, smiling. "It's starting right after the movie finishes and my friends and I are performing. I know it's dumb, but, well... it might be... fun..."

Oliver trailed off.

Quan and Brandon were laughing at him under their breath.

"I'm good, thanks," Quan said.

"What?"

"I'm not interested in some gay talent show."

Brandon gave a loud howl of laughter — at the movie or what Quan had said, Oliver couldn't tell. Oliver almost laughed as well anyway, only he wasn't amused but rather astounded. This feeling quickly changed to anger and embarrassment and Oliver didn't stick around to hear what else Quan had to say about him. He left the auditorium, hot faced and refusing to answer when Enid asked what was wrong. They went through the theatre hallway and outside where the pale sunset was suddenly shrouded by a thick casting of dark, grey, lumpy clouds that looked like an incoming herd of walkers. They stopped to stare up at it. Oliver was furious. He couldn't believe Quan would be so stupid. How could he, Oliver, be so stupid? To just stroll up to him like that blinded by how happy today had made him feel. Since when was he so optimistic and pathetic and _weak _as to not suspect something completely ridiculous and humiliating would end up happening to him?

A sharp evening chill blew through them and snapped Oliver out of his thoughts with a violent shiver. Enid hugged her jacket tightly around herself. It was too big for her, with ash and soot stains so Oliver knew it was Alden's. Oliver felt a pang of jealousy. He wished he had someone who let him borrow their jackets. Someone who didn't patronise him for their own stupid hang-ups. He wished he could go back several weeks ago to before Enid convinced him to give dating a try. He was stupid not to realise then, after everything, that it would only end in hurt and disaster.

Enid was watching him, searching in his face for what was bothering him.

"You nervous?" she asked, taking a guess.

"No. Why would I be nervous?"

"I don't know. You don't usually sing in front of people."

"Oh..." At the thought of the show Oliver suddenly felt a large unexpected pulse of adrenaline pump through his stomach. "Yeah..."

Enid smiled at him. "Last time I heard you sing was in your bedroom... _in Alexandria._"

Oliver laughed even though he felt sad in the nostalgia — it was surprisingly easy to smile in spite of all the emotions he was suddenly feeling. He put his arm over her shoulder and saw Enid push her chin affectionately into the thermal plastic of his prosthetic.

"You know, Al and I have got a secret," she said.

"I didn't know," Oliver said, "now tell me."

She smiled at him nervously.

"Quick, or I'll die," Oliver insisted.

Enid opened her mouth, but was interrupted.

"Excuse me?" someone said. "Hello, there, excuse me?"

Oliver, Enid, and Bean turned their heads.

The voice had come from behind the school buses.

It said, "Could you two give me a hand, please?"

They went over. A woman was crouched at the wall peering outside through a small gap in the rusty metal sheets. She wore a green floral dress and a sun-hat with golden hair flowing from under it.

"What's wrong?" Enid asked her.

"It seems that my poor little puppy has slipped away," the woman said in a wispy voice. "Could you give me a hand in getting her back?"

"Uh. Sure," Enid said, helping pull the metal sheet back so she and Oliver could slip through the gap. "I'm Enid, this is Oliver."

"From Hilltop," Oliver said.

"I'm Deborah," she said. "I'm from Alexandria."

She crawled through the gap after them.

"But you two can call me Debbie..."

"Nice to meet you, Debbie. So, where did your dog go?"

"Oh, my silly little thing, she must've gone that-a-way," the woman said in her dreamy voice. "Through them trees there..."

"Okay. But maybe we should go and get someone on patrol to — _Oliver!_"

He didn't know what happened to him. One second he was squinting through the treeline and in the next second some huge force had squashed him to the ground like a bug. He heard Enid's muffled scream and Bean growling and barking. Debbie cried out. The dog yelped. Throes of pain rammed around in Oliver's head and then, all of a sudden, nought.

* * *

When he opened his eyes he was slumped against something hard. The world was dark and he was aching all over. It took a few hazy moments to realise he was sitting with his back to a stall wall inside a barn. He was bleeding and dazed. His glasses were gone so he found it hard to see but managed to make out Henry kneeling across from him, looking around wildly. Oliver tried to reach out to him but his hand and elbow were bound behind his back. His prosthetic arm was gone. He was gagged with a rag. Oliver looked around. As well as his prosthetic his knife was gone, too. Oliver twisted and peered around the stall to see Frankie, Tammy Rose, Addy, Rodney, Tara, and Alden in the main barn area. Several people in walker masks were guarding them. Oliver's heart was vibrating in his throat. He caught Alden's eyes and mumbled something that didn't manage to make words past the rag in his mouth. He wanted to know where Enid was. By the look on Alden's face he wanted to know, too.

Oliver was working hard not to yack when a now bald Debbie stepped out from an empty stall opposite him, still wearing her summer dress. Her arm was bleeding from what Oliver realised was a nasty bite from Bean, which she took no notice of. In her right hand was a crumpled sun-hat and in her left she held a scalp —Hilde's scalp, Oliver realised— with its golden hair tangled around her fingers.

This woman didn't need to reintroduce herself.

Oliver sat very quietly, breathing fast.

"Do you all know why you're here?" Alpha asked them all.

The shuffling hostages inside the barn were quiet and still and breathless. Outside, the breeze whispered in on them. Eventually Tara made a grunting noise. Alpha stepped over to her and pulled away her gag.

"If it's Lydia you want in exchange for us," Tara grunted out quickly and breathlessly, "you should know, she wants to stay with us. She feels—"

Alpha gagged her again roughly.

She looked around at them all accusingly.

"You think this is about _her_? You think... I'm going to _trade_ you all _for her_?" Alpha laughed like she wanted to scream, then stopped suddenly. "My daughter isn't a concern anymore. She was weak, and never lived up to expectations."

"Was?" Henry mumbled.

Alpha withdrew a shotgun from over her shoulder and aimed it slowly around her hostages. "We are in the process of teaching your group a lesson, so, if you'd please, _be quiet_..." She glanced to a large shadow at the back of the crowd of Whisperers. The shadow shifted. "Beta?"

Despite what Isaac had said about this man he was far taller and broader than Oliver had ever imagined. Beta was a colossal. Behemoth. He wore only the top half of a skinmask to accommodate for his long, straggly beard. He stepped over to Alpha wordlessly and handed her a machete.

Moments drifted across the cold night air, twisting they way through the barn walls, until finally Alpha nodded and several of her Whisperers came forward, knives wielded. Frankie began screaming. Tara and Alden started shouting through their gags. Oliver twisted back and attempting to kick one of them coming his way, thinking this was really it, this was how he was going to die, and then out of nowhere there was shouting coming from the barn door and Oliver turned and saw Ozzy, Alec, and DJ charging into the barn. Ozzy bashed in one guy's face while Alec drove another through a stall wall. DJ cut Tara's binds and then he was thrown clean across the barn by Beta, who marched after him. By then Tara had cut Alden's binds and they both were cutting Henry and Oliver loose, too, and in seconds almost everyone else was free and fighting as well. Tammy Rose was fending off a few of them with a shovel. Frankie was using a rock to disarm someone. Oliver used the sharp edge of a broken lock to blind someone else. Alden had stolen a knife and as one of them charged him he stabbed them through the stomach and threw them down. Suddenly two bodies crashed to the ground behind Oliver and he twisted around and saw Henry standing in their wake, looking triumphant.

"Henry!"

Another Whisperer ran for him before Oliver could stop them. Henry was pinned to the wall. Oliver charged and threw himself at them both. He landed on top of the Whisperer's chest and hit him in the temple with the broken lock until he stopped moving and blood was dribbling from the holes in his mask. Out of breath, Oliver stumbled to his feet, dodging the chaos around him. He looked around, heaving. Henry was bent over. His face was wide with shock as he pulled a knife out of his chest.

"No..."

Henry didn't speak. Blood fell into his palms. He dropped to his knees.

Oliver caught him in his arms and held him as he died.

Addy was screaming. Alden was pinned to the ground and struggling furiously. Ozzy had been knocked out and Alec and DJ were dead. Tammy Rose was sobbing. Frankie was bleeding out. Rodney begged and begged until Alpha hacked his head from his body.

"_You monsters!_" Tara shouted.

Alpha just smiled and moved towards her, machete dripping.

Tara was held down. The blood between her neck and body gushed from her to everywhere, soaking the barn and the people in it. Alden was next no matter how much Oliver or anyone else begged. Then Ozzy and Alec, too. And DJ. And Tammy Rose. And Addy. And Frankie. They pulled Henry out of Oliver's arms. It took two people to hold Oliver back even as Henry's head landed with a squelch in front of him. Oliver couldn't stop sobbing even though there was no one left to hear him. He shut his eyes tightly but they were forced open by one of the Whisperers holding him who was much stronger than him with tall, broad shoulders that swallowed Oliver whole.

He said in Oliver's ear, "_Open your eyes..._"

Henry's eyes twitched open and glanced lazily up at them, mouth snapping.

Oliver was beside himself.

Someone's wet fingers touched his chin and tugged so that he looked up. Alpha smiled at him. Splashes of blood oozed off her chin. She placed her scarlet palms against Oliver's cheeks, almost in a loving way, and whispered, "Tell them what happened here. That is all..."

And he was squashed again.

* * *

He awoke blurry-eyed and sore under white clouds and naked trees, colder than he'd been in his whole life. He was tied to a tree. He felt snow land on his skin and in his hair and saw mist in his breath as he let out a cry of pain. He pulled his arms but only got his prosthetic-less arm free. Without his glasses the world was pale and out of focus. With his stump he felt for his knife but found his sheath still empty. He dug desperately at the ropes around his chest. His hand was still trapped under rope. His fingers had turned a strange shade of purple and were too numb to feel anything at all. He remembered vaguely how he'd arrived here. He remembered the border Alpha had created with... with—

He tried hard to push the memories away.

"Oliver!"

He startled and twisted his head. Figures were coming through the woods. He saw silver hair matching the snowfall and stuck out his stump. His voice was a hopeless croak. "_Carol..._"

"Oh, my God!"

She dropped to her knees before him, eyes wild. Oliver was too cold to speak anymore. Carol's hands were too warm as she touched his face, shaking violently. Her palms came away with crusted blood on them. Someone cut Oliver loose and he slumped to the ground. He couldn't feel his feet as well as his hand and his whole body was tremoring. Daryl took off his coat and threw it over Oliver's shoulders.

"It's damn good to see you, man," Daryl growled, voice shaking.

Carol and Michonne helped Oliver walk.

"Enid found us, told us you'd been taken," Magna or Yumiko asked from ahead, checking the coast was clear. "What happened? Others are missing. Are they out here, too?"

Oliver just shook his head. So cold. He didn't want them to go any further. He didn't want them to see. Even with their misty huffs and puffs and the shallow snow crunching under their boots as they climbed the bank, Oliver could already hear them.

Their growling and their small, empty sighs—

Waiting for them up on the hill—

Atop ten pikes—

But they went up—

And they saw—

Alpha's new border.

Carol screamed into Daryl's chest.

Magna and Yumiko held each other.

Michonne fell to her knees.

And Oliver stood alone.

* * *

Back at Kingdom Oliver's wounds were treated at the clinic by Siddiq, who explained that his fingers and toes were frostbitten mildly but with enough rest and warm fires the feeling in them would return soon enough. Enid sat across the room staring vacantly out the window with a bloody bandage around her shoulder. Oliver could only guess how she'd managed to get away when they were attacked. She'd barely said a word since they'd brought in the bodies and their heads. Oliver didn't manage to find his own words, either, to thank her for getting back to Kingdom to warn everyone, nor had he found the words to show his condolence for the fact that Bean had not lived to returned with her.

The dog had his own grave dug alongside everyone else who Alpha had murdered. Lydia, who had been confronted by her mother in the night after the kidnappings, remained alone in the King's headquarters during the mass funeral. Afterwards the King wanted Oliver to give a speech about what he'd seen and those they'd lost and was furious when Oliver refused. Carol defended Oliver and she and Ezekiel fought about it all day until Oliver burst in on them sometime in the early evening and shouted at them to stop.

"I figured something out with Siddiq," he admitted, cheeks hot, eyes wet. "Help me gather everybody."

A little while later Oliver joined the four-community crowd before the stage. Quan, now without his friends surrounding him, caught Oliver's eye hopefully as he scanned the crowd. Oliver ignored him and instead joined Carol and Enid. Some people were standing very still while others were weeping into their hands. Siddiq was standing on stage before them all.

"Last night, our friends were killed," he said. "Oliver was found this morning, alone. He was spared to tell us the horrors... the evil... that he saw... but has refused to on grounds that Alpha only wants to scare us all. To drive us all apart, again. So, I'm here to tell you the part that _should_ be told, not the part Alpha _wanted_ you all to hear."

Siddiq spoke about Enid's escape, prompting Ozzy, Alec, and DJ to find the barn, before the end. How they made an opening and how everyone fought back. Siddiq spoke about how what they did was more than brave because they defended each other and sacrificed for each other despite some of them not even knowing each other.

"And in the end," Siddiq went on, "their time was cut short. And ours keeps going. But we have to keep going. For them and for all of us. We need to honour them and we need to remember that these friends, our family... died as heroes."

* * *

_You couldn't sleep for the awful fright  
That kept you up in bed last night  
While curious shapes shift in the dark  
They vanish with the sunlight spark_

_So, rise and shine  
Now's the time to be alive  
To stay awake with me a while  
And smile_

_Something's wrong..._

* * *

**Notes**

Song was "1940" by The Submarines.

Nice little nod to Daryl's crush on Connie right there at the start. Also, just saying, I do not believe that Alpha... or any human... can behead someone.. with wire... fucking wire. I will accept Judith having wrists of steel, but this? NO.

**I have said it before and I will say it again: Enid —and I cannot stress this enough— deserves so much better, so Alden is taking her ****place six feet under****. Fuck him. What did he ever do except have a voice ****as ****sweet ****as**** damned ****honey, okay?**

RIP Berry Blue Jelly Bean, loyal to the end.

As always,  
Happy reading.


	11. The Storm, Part 1: Still No Sanctuary

**fandomismylife** Thank you! Yes, I absolutely am thrilled to have kept Enid alive. She changes a lot in my story going forward. Hope you like her!

* * *

_Wear me, wear me out  
It's all strung out  
You found what carried you_

_Fall out, everyone fall out  
Get lost in this town  
Some road that's getting worn  
At our feet, at our feet now..._

* * *

Enid had recovered Oliver's glasses from where Alpha had attacked them. The old pair now had a small crack on one lens. He suspected Alpha must've taken his prosthetic arm with her. Managing without it was heartbreaking.

In the two months after the fair people came and left the Kingdom but more people left. By the time January blew in, travelling had become difficult in the cold and took longer now with Alpha's new border established. People threw themselves into their work. Enid spent all her time inside Kingdom's infirmary where she was needed more than at Hilltop. Oliver had remained at the Kingdom, too, and spent his time doing what he could for the place and trying to avoid any thought on what he'd seen the night of the fair. He still found himself keeling over daily in the midst of panic attack after panic attack though, and the nightmares didn't wade for weeks. Of it all, though, the survivors guilt was the worst part.

Ezekiel had barely said a word to him. Carol either, despite her and Oliver spending most of their time together. She and Ezekiel argued constantly. Oliver knew Ezekiel hated him for being the one who had survived and not Henry. He saw it in Ezekiel's eyes every time he looked at him, even if he would never admit it.

The nights were insomniac and the days were exhausting. They ate rationed meals of boiled beans, carrots, canned beetroot, and off-colour apple sauce. The harsh weather was taking its toll on the Kingdom. Walls were crumbling. Windows were breaking. Sometimes there were entire days spent wet and frozen down in the boiler room under the school trying to rescue the pipes from the cold, but they had burst and burst again. And then the fires began. And the rot. Once Ezekiel had finally accepted that it wasn't worth the fight anymore he radioed in an emergency broadcast to the other communities — contact would have been impossible had it not been for Rosita and Eugene repairing the radio booster after the fair. Finally after a week Michonne, Daryl, and Aaron arrived through the snow with an organised rescue convoy to take everyone to Hilltop, the closest community.

They had to leave immediately.

With Alpha's border the snowy journey would to be lengthened from a day and a half to three or more if the weather got any worse, which Oliver suspected it would. He didn't remember a Virginian winter this severe since he was a child — there had been a town-wide power cut and an old man a few streets away had died of pneumonia.

As they got going in their carriages and on their horses everyone was bundled in layers to keep warm. Oliver wore several pairs of socks, a plastic bag inside each boot, a pair of sweatpants under his jeans, and two sweaters on over his coat with the right arm knotted to accommodate his amputation. He had a glove, a scarf, and a beanie hat, too, and someone had given him a spare patterned blanket to wrap around himself, pinned closed at the front — his orange duffel bag behind his saddle felt almost empty since he was wearing the majority of its contents.

Enid was sitting in the back of a carriage with a blanket. She looked unwell and Oliver wasn't sure she was eating. He took in a great gulp of cold air that hurt, then nudged Roan on to Michonne, Magna, and Yumiko riding ahead.

"No one can agree on what to do next," Michonne said. "And the council cannot come to any security resolutions?"

"Everyone's still reeling," Yumiko said. She took Magna's hand. "Between Jesus, Tara, and the others we lost."

"And still nothing from Maggie?" Michonne asked.

"The council sent another letter," Yumiko answered, "but we haven't heard anything back."

There were walkers dawdling in the next field over. Alice was giving Lydia grief over them, demanding if any were her mother's Whisperers.

"Hey, knock it off!" Daryl hissed.

Alice glared into her saddle. Oliver saw Enid watching Lydia.

As they travelled on another few miles the temperature fell fast and the snow fell even faster, warning of an incoming storm. Roan turned his head against it. Oliver reached forward and rubbed along the horse's long, ashy neck and blew hot air into his withers. Roan snorted gratefully. At some point tracks of the dead led across the road and off into the trees. Ten or twenty of them by the looks, at least. Two walkers struggling to keep up turned and stumbled back up towards the road. They were almost frozen through, movements rickety and slow. Carol sent an arrow through one's skull while Daryl got the other. He collected the arrow and bolt and scanned the ground.

"Gonna follow the tracks," Daryl offered, "make sure the cluster's not too close."

"I'll go with you," Carol said.

Ezekiel looked at her and then Oliver, briefly, nodding.

"Catch up," he said to his wife.

Carol hesitated suddenly, watching them, then descended the bank after Daryl. Ezekiel watched them go. After a moment he asked Oliver to walk with him. Oliver dismounted and tucked his reins over his elbow. Roan kept behind them both with his head bowed behind their shoulders out of the snow.

"I heard talk about some people moving on to Alexandria with Michonne when the snow clears," Ezekiel said, and Oliver didn't say anything because he had nothing to say. Ezekiel cleared his throat. "The past few months have been... hard... for Carol and I..."

He paused for a moment and when he finally spoke again his grandeur theatre accent had gone and was replaced with his authentic West Virginian one. Oliver only ever witnessed it if he accidentally overheard Ezekiel and Carol speaking in private.

"I'm hoping for a fresh start with her at Hilltop," he said to Oliver, "and it'd be easier, I think, if you could go with the others to Alexandria."

"What?"

"We lost our son," Ezekiel said.

Oliver was too taken aback to reply.

"Shit, I just..." Ezekiel sighed. "You're as much a son to her —to both of us, I mean— as Henry was. But it's different. You've grown up. You've been living at Hilltop independently for years. I think having you around so much now is only a reminder of what we've lost. All I'm saying is that for the time being I think it's better for Carol if..."

"If I leave?"

"Look, Oliver, I'm not trying to be a bad guy here. I just want to get back a piece of what I lost. What she and I lost." Ezekiel sighed. "After everything, you think you could give me that?"

Oliver didn't look at him. He didn't know what to say so he climbed back into Roan's saddle, waited for a clearing between carriages, and rode on to the other side of the road.

By the time Daryl and Carol returned, the snow had settled several inches taller and everyone was struggling to get through. They decided to stop and regroup. Most huddled by the carriages to keep warm while Ezekiel, Carol, Daryl, Michonne, Jerry, Aaron, Magna, and Yumiko gathered at the front of the convoy to discuss what to do next. Oliver couldn't spot Enid anywhere so he rode around the convoy hoping to spot her. Just as he realised Lydia was missing, too, and opened his mouth to call out and tell the others, he saw the two of them emerging from the treeline together and shivering as they climbed into the back of a carriage.

Lydia set Henry's staff aside carefully as she sat down.

Oliver watched Enid sit beside her.

She shook her head as if to tell him to drop it.

"Weather's already kicking in!" Jerry called out over the wind and snow. "Even if we hauled ass overnight, we'd never make it!"

"We need to get off the roads," Aaron said, "find shelter between here and the next way station!"

"You have a place in mind?" Ezekiel asked.

Michonne nodded. "Yeah!"

She led the way. After a while Oliver could see the factory chimneys looming through the white sky like lumbering giants poising to attack. He'd never set foot on Sanctuary soil but he'd heard a lot about the place. After six years the building was a shattered ruin compared to the old descriptions that he pictured in his head, utterly desolate and miserable and crumbling. The snow didn't help. Once they found the main doors they filed inside and struggled to shut the doors behind everyone against the gust. Snow blew in around their ankles. The doors shut with a clang. They caught their breath.

"People actually lived here?" Magna asked as she looked around the cluttered, open, warehouse floor.

Michonne sighed, wiping snow from her coat.

"Welcome to the Sanctuary."

* * *

Oliver got on with settling the horses in for the night. He and a few others were able to convert a furniture-cluttered area on one side of the ground floor into a hitching area. They gave the horses buckets filled with snow and rationed out a little hay for them all in open, side-turned, filing cabinets. It would do for now.

Carol came to speak to Oliver while he was blanketing one of the ponies who hadn't stopped shivering since arrival. He attempted to avoid a conversation but Carol was too quick in starting one.

"Bet the horses are grateful."

Oliver hummed and busied himself in smoothing out its blanket.

Carol was watching him over the horse's withers. "Something happen back there with you and Ezekiel?"

Oliver shook his head. "No." He said it too quickly, he was sure. He cleared his throat. "Nothing happened."

Carol sighed. "He's only angry at you because he can't let himself be angry me."

Oliver looked at her.

"You're angry you, though," he said to her. He wanted to feel annoyed at her but he saw the look on her face. The look he hadn't seen in her for years until a few months ago, on that bank. The look that hadn't really gone away since. It meant she was losing herself again.

He moved around the horse and hugged her.

"Hang in there, Carol."

She squeezed him. "I'm trying..."

* * *

The snowstorm was hitting hard. Even if it stopped by morning the snow would stick around tall for days longer than any living person could. If they didn't move now they were all going to be trapped and starve or freeze to death or worse. They were going to starve or freeze, too, if they took the long way around to avoid Alpha's border. A select few could've left to get supplies, but in the bad weather with so few numbers it was still too dangerous a risk to make. Finally they decided to move everyone at once through Alpha's territory.

What was worse was that the planned route was going to take them across an iced over river so the livestock would be too heavy to cross, and considering how badly the dogs, cats, and smaller livestock were suffering in the cold, too, it meant that everyone was going to be forced to leave all the animals behind at the Sanctuary as the kindest option. Some people went about making their pets as comfortable as possible. Oliver and the farmers and stable hands got on with getting the rest of the animals as well situated as they could manage. The goats would eat anything so they focussed on giving the horses, pigs, geese, cows, and chickens all the hay and oats they could find, which wasn't a lot, and piled snow into all the buckets they could spare.

In the few minutes before leaving, Oliver knelt by a filing cabinet while Roan and another horse fed on a pile of hay.

"Eat as much as you can, guys," he said, running his fingers through Roan's pale mane hairs. "I'll come back for you as soon as possible. Swear it."

Roan lifted his head and licked Oliver's eyebrows, then became bored and returned to his small pile of hay instead. Oliver told himself it was pointless to worry, that it was only wasting time, so he got up and headed towards the others to get ready to go. He noticed Enid sitting in a carriage a few yards away and went to her with his duffel over his shoulder.

"You okay?" Oliver asked her.

"Yeah."

Oliver could tell she was lying. He sat beside her. "Enid..."

"Don't."

"Okay."

They were quiet for a few moments.

"Wanna know something?" Enid asked him.

"Sure," Oliver answered.

She turned suddenly to smile at him.

A tear fell down her face.

"I... I'm glad Bean is dead," she said, like it hadn't been what she wanted to say at all.

Oliver blinked at her. "What?"

"I mean, it was either this," Enid said, gesturing over at the livestock and pets, "freezing to death, slowly and alone, or what happened, which was… quick, at least."

It was hard to look away from her.

"We're coming back for them," Oliver said weakly. "All the animals are going to be okay."

Enid looked at him like she knew something he didn't.

"They're going to make it," Oliver insisted.

"No," Enid said softly, "they aren't."

Oliver swallowed the rock in his throat. He felt angry and he didn't know why. He had to fight to control his voice before he spoke again.

"You didn't deserve to lose them, Een."

She shut her eyes. Tears squeezed their way through anyway, one after another. Between hiccups she told him, "I wish it had been me," and on reflex Oliver told her that, "Saying that is stupid," and she looked at him in this furious way and told him, "I guess that's all I am then, stupid," and before Oliver could say anything to her she stood up, wiped her face, grabbed her things, and walked away.

"Enid..."

"Just forget it. We have to get going."

* * *

_'Cause I got older  
And we got tired  
Heaven, I know that we tried  
Heaven, I know…_

* * *

**Notes**

Song was "Heaven I Know" by Gordie, from a later episode.

I realise that I'm nicking Daryl's and Ezekiel's storyline arc but now that Daryl and Connie never went off for Lydia and Henry, all the fault and blame and anger, in the King's eyes, has come down on Oliver because people are irrational and impulsive when they're mourning and it just fits to me that Ezekiel would be angry with him.

As always,  
Happy reading.


	12. The Storm, Part 2: A Harder Tomorrow

**fandomismylife **Right!? The Quan arc will actually have a few ups and downs as it goes on. It's complicated. But it'll all unwravel eventually.

* * *

_CW: Suicide mention._

* * *

_Walking in my sleep  
Like the naked trees  
Will they wake up again?  
Do they sleep? Do they dream?_

_Feel it as the wind strokes my skin  
I am moved by the chill  
Hear the winter bird sing_

_My tears are always frozen  
I can see the air I breathe  
But my fingers painting pictures  
On the glass in front of me  
Lay me by the frozen river  
Where the boats have passed me by  
All I need is to remember  
How it was to feel alive_

_Silent things, violent chase  
We are dancing again  
In a dream by the lake..._

* * *

The snow made the night outside look pale. The bitter cold cut right through them. Even the animals could sense the looming dread as everyone began filing out of the factory. Oliver had to help barricade the doors to prevent them from trying to follow them outside.

After a few miles they reached the border. The pikes were still there. Their stained red ends were clear against the snow. Some people stopped to look but Oliver walked by and kept his eyes on the snow as it crunched underfoot. They came across some walkers not long later. Frozen solid and dormant like they always were in severe cold. A few people bashed their heads off their shoulders as they passed by. On from that they found the river. Rick's bridge wouldn't even have saved them the trouble of crossing. All the creeks and rivers were frozen solid for miles so they didn't need any bridges at all. Slowly they made their way down the bank and across the ice. There were a few frozen walkers under the steeper parts of snow which acted like empty rotten pockets when some people stepped on them, causing some to trip and fall, so everyone was careful as they went.

"Hey, where's Lydia?"

"I'll go find her," Enid said.

Everybody was across the bridge by the time Enid and Lydia returned. Like last time they looked frozen and miserable. Oliver asked what had happened but Enid told him, "Nothing," and they continued on.

* * *

They arrived to Hilltop in the evening. The crop fields were dormant and frozen. A walker stood outside the gardens with icicles for fingers. Its body didn't budge but it gave a small groan as Daryl approached and shattered its head with the butt of his crossbow. Snow was still falling as they stumbled in through the gates but Oliver still felt warmer than he had in months. Magna and Yumiko were engulfed by Kelly, Connie, and Luke. Others, too, came to greet their friends and family. Oliver saw Quan's silhouette inside the distillery windows. He walked on across the courtyard, passing the empty, miserable blacksmithery as he went and it was that same empty misery that followed Oliver and the others on inside Barrington House.

Enid headed upstairs alone. Oliver and most of the others huddled inside the office where one of the house's largest fireplace was located, already stoked and waiting for them. At some point once they'd warmed up Carol and Ezekiel went to settle into a spare room upstairs. Ezekiel caught and held Oliver's eyes as he left and Oliver's stomach grew heavy. He looked away when Carol glanced around, and they both disappeared into the foyer.

"It's like our new Kingdom," Jerry told his children from the sofa, all cuddled up together, "only it's Hilltop. Hey, if we call it 'Kingtop' maybe we could make that a thing?"

His children giggled. Aaron, sitting across from them, watched contently with this look on his face that Oliver only ever saw in a parent. The fire crackled and warmed them from the outside in. Oliver only realised he needed to go to bed when he began drifting off to sleep against the inglenook. Aaron, who had unflinching dad-reflexes, managed to snatch Oliver's arm before he rolled over into the flames. After thanking Aaron, Oliver got up. His knees cracked. He said goodnight to everyone and on his way back to his room he stopped and knocked on Enid's door.

"Hi?"

"It's me," he said against the oak frame. "Just came to check on you."

There was a pause.

"Come in," she said finally.

"Shit, it's cold..." Oliver said as he stepped inside. The room was pitch black. He rushed to the windows and struggled to yank them all closed. She must've left them open before they left for Kingdom months ago. He saw Enid's shape hidden under her comforter. He lit a lamp on her bedside and worked for a few minutes to light the little fireplace across from her bed. He got the fire going strong before he heard the bedsheets shuffle behind him. He looked around. Enid's thin, pale arm appeared. Oliver went over and took it. Cold as ice. He was pulled under the bedsheets.

"You're frozen," he complained, pulling Enid into his arms tightly. Her knees and feet were coldest so he rubbed them for her, sitting up in the big king-sized comforter so that it made a dark fort supported by their heads with Enid sitting in his lap and using his thighs as a pair of arm rests.

"Lydia tried to kill herself yesterday," she said.

Several moments after hearing this Oliver realised he'd stopped rubbing her knees and quickly began rubbing her hands instead.

"I stopped her," Enid added. She tutted. "Well, I _caught_ her, and _she_ stopped..."

She was quiet for a few minutes. All Oliver could hear was the sound of his hands warming hers and his breath as he blew hot air into the hair on the back of her head. She shivered violently and shuffled closer against him.

"Today was hard," Oliver said.

"And tomorrow will be harder."

"No," Oliver told her, "it won't be harder. Not this time. Not after everything that's happened."

He could hear her crying softly.

"That woman," he went on gently, "Debbie—"

"Alpha," Enid croaked.

Oliver sighed. "Yeah. Alpha. She said she was from Alexandria. She was able to trick us because we don't know anybody from there anymore."

"Do you blame Michonne?"

Oliver thought about this.

"I did," he admitted finally. "Just like I blamed Rick for what he did to me. But I've forgiven her like I forgave him. And that charter she and the others signed, it's going to make us stronger. It's going to change the way things are."

"If Alpha saw us crossing that border," Enid whispered, "she'll kill us all."

"And if we hadn't crossed that border," Oliver said, putting her hands to his mouth and kissing them firmly, "we'd have all died anyway."

* * *

The next day Oliver left Enid's room while she slept in. He'd stayed with her all night and she'd only fallen asleep in the early hours of the morning when exhaustion got the better of her. Because of this Oliver was confident she would sleep for a few more hours, so he got up. He went downstairs and stood out on the porch. The snow had barely begun to thaw and although the storm was over it was so bitterly cold that he had to hug himself and hurry back inside after only a few moments. It was too dangerous to try returning to Sanctuary for the animals yet so he went and sat alone in his room, feeling too guilty to do anything except obsess over how to get to the Sanctuary as safely and as quickly as possible. It was a useless process but Oliver had nothing else to distract himself with, until—

Someone knocked on his door.

"Come in," Oliver grumbled with his head in his hands, but regretted saying it when he looked up and saw Quan step inside the room.

He and shut the door behind himself. "This a bad time?"

In private reply, Oliver glared at his balcony hoping it might occur to Quan to leave through it at a jump. Instead Quan sat on the bed beside Oliver and leaned over to kiss him. It was difficult to turn away, but Oliver did. He pushed Quan back with his amputation arm.

"No," Oliver said.

Quan sat back.

"Haven't had much time to talk to you," he said, rubbing his hands together. "We've all just been trying to keep on keeping on, you know, like everything's still normal."

Oliver remained silent.

"Sorry," Quan said. "About what happened."

Oliver's eyes narrowed. "Are you?"

"Yeah," Quan said. "You should never have had to see that, what Alpha did."

Oliver burst out laughing. Quan had to be joking.

"What?" Quan asked him.

"So, you came in here to apologise because of what Alpha did?"

"I know you're still dealing with it all. Maybe I shouldn't have brought it up."

Oliver shook his head and smiled. "You're right. You shouldn't have. Because as upset as I am with what happened _with __Alpha_ at the fair it is _not_ the thing that happened that day which I think _you_ should be apologising for."

Quan looked genuinely confused. He thought for several moments while Oliver wondered how dense someone could be.

Finally Quan squinted and said, "Oh, you mean inside the theatre?"

Oliver looked away, cheeks hot with frustration. He was too tired for this. There were far worse things in the world than emotionally repressed hypocritical assholes who he no longer had the time of day for.

"Look, man, just go."

"No, no, you have it all wrong," Quan said hopefully. "I just didn't want to blow our cover, you know? That's all."

Oliver shook his head, amazed. "_What?_"

"Yeah, yeah — after the King dropped your ex's name in his speech, well, I wasn't the only one who saw the look on your face."

Oliver felt the heat rise again in his face. Quan seemed to think his reassurance was needed and reached out to take his hand but Oliver pulled away from him.

"Come on," Quan said gently, "it was obvious how you felt for him. I had to come up with something so that Brandon didn't suspect us."

"Who cares what he thinks?" Oliver demanded. "And fuck you, Quan! Carl wasn't just my ex. He's the reason your sorry ass is living in these walls. He's the reason the fair even happened at all! And if Brandon is such an asshole about that — if he's such an asshole about any of this, then why are you even friends with him?"

Quan grimaced. Looking lost, he shook his head and said, "Brandon and I come from the same place. And, yeah, I haven't seen him in years but we still have that together, you know? We've had to adjust to Alexandria and Hilltop, to our people... I can't come out to him, alright? He wouldn't get it."

"I'm not asking you to do that," Oliver argued. "I'm not asking you for anything. So who the hell do you think you are to expect me to hide who I am for you?"

Quan stared up at him — apparently he hadn't been expected this reaction.

"I'm not in the closet, Quan," Oliver hissed. "And I'm never going to be, not for you, or fucking Brandon or anyone! If that doesn't work for you, then just go. I don't need this shit."

"Is it because I was a Savior?"

"_No!_" Oliver growled. "It's because you're ashamed to know me. And it's because you're so ashamed of yourself that you _bullied_ me for it!"

"I just didn't want to go to your stupid talent show!"

"You didn't call it stupid!"

"Oh, whatever — you didn't even _go_ to it!"

"Because I was kidnapped!"

Quan glared at him, looking furious and dumbstruck and then he left the room and slammed the door shut behind himself. Oliver kicked the leg of his bed. Scab scurried out from under it and hissed at him. He let her out the balcony doors and she sat on the banister, tail swishing angrily. Matching her mood Oliver slumped across his bed and smothered himself with his pillow.

* * *

It took several miserable days to wait out the snow. Even by then it was still thawing at a few feet tall but conditions were good enough to travel again, at least. After a small breakfast, Michonne and Aaron set off with a convoy for Alexandria. Daryl went with them since he wanted to make sure everyone, including Dog, was okay. Lydia went, too, and Enid. Oliver had made a point to decline joining them in front of Ezekiel just so he knew without question that Oliver wasn't about to be guilt-tripped into leaving his own home and work. If he wanted a new start with Carol he was just going to have to come to an agreement to her face, not behind her back. Not to mention it was more important to Oliver to go out to rescue the animals from the Sanctuary. He announced that he was searching for volunteers to accompany him but not many were keen on helping him except for Carol, much to Ezekiel's displeasure, but eventually Yumiko, Magna, Connie, Kelly, and Luke volunteered, too.

They took a two-horse carriage. They couldn't afford to disobey Alpha's border again so it took a day and half a night to drive there. Oliver knew something wasn't right before they'd even entered the building. The silence made it all too clear that there was no life inside. Right where they had left them, all the pigs, cows, and horses were laid dead on the ground inside the warehouse. The dogs, cats, geese, sheep, and chickens, and even their eggs, were frozen solid. There was one goat alive which had managed to brake into a cleaning cupboard where it was a little warmer, but it had poisoned itself on the bottled chemicals — it choked out a weak bleat as Kelly stuck her knife through its chest.

Oliver went back into the main room and knelt over Roan's corpse. He reached out and attempted to shut the horse's big glossy eyes but they were frozen open. He placed a hand on Roan's muzzle and took a deep pained breath. Roan had been an old friend and the loss of him hit as hard as any.

Oliver felt a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," Carol whispered to him. "I know the horses meant a lot to you."

Oliver sniffed and stood up. He wiped his face. He turned to everyone. Connie, Yumiko, and Magna were watching him from outside the make-shift pen. Kelly and Luke were approaching from the frozen chickens.

"Thank you for coming with me, everyone. I'm sorry it was for nothing," he told them all, and after Yumiko had finished translating his words into ASL for Connie, Connie signed something back to him. Oliver shook his head. "Sorry, I don't..."

"She says: It wasn't for nothing," Luke repeated.

Oliver looked at the ground with this heavy and grateful feeling in his bones.

He forced a nod.

"In the morning we'll fill the carriage with any supplies and equipment we've got lying around, like the saddles and buckets and the harnesses, then we'll head back to Hilltop," he said, voice hoarse. "For now let's go upstairs and find somewhere to rest for the night."

They lit their way deeper into the factory with flashlights and raised knives and eventually found some empty rooms to sleep in along a cold, dusty corridor upstairs. In one of the rooms which had clearly been someone's bedroom once, Oliver saw a large, taxidermy, African antelope mounted on the wall and recalled Carl's description, years ago, of Negan's headquarters — Oliver quickly left the room alone as he put two and two together.

Magna and Connie kept first watch in the hallway. Kelly, Yumiko, and Luke took a room with a microwave and three beds while Oliver and Carol took another room with a bed and a couch. Carol collapsed along the bed and Oliver slumped on the couch, sneezing from the dust. He took his inhaler. They kept their lights low as they got settled to sleep for the night.

"I know that Ezekiel asked you to leave," Carol said.

Oliver felt the pit in his stomach clench but forced a smile at her anyway.

He nodded.

"I'm sorry," Carol mumbled. "He shouldn't have asked you to do that."

Oliver shrugged. "I wasn't going to listen to him anyway, but now, well..."

Even as he twisted over to find something to eat in his bag he could feel her eyes on him. He found a small Tupperware box filled with hard boiled eggs — at least Hilltop still had its livestock. He took two and handed one to Carol.

They began to crack and de-shell their eggs.

Oliver didn't have an appetite so he ate very slowly.

Carol picked bits of eggshell and crushed them against the bedside table with her thumb. Eventually she asked, "But now?"

"Well," Oliver said, shrugging again, "most of the livestock and pets were Kingdom's, sure, but the horses were mostly from Kingdom and Hilltop, and now with only a few left at Hilltop Oscar isn't going to need the extra help anymore, which means I haven't got a job."

"You'll find more horses," Carol said.

"Nah," Oliver said, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice. He sighed and then he said honestly, "Ezekiel's right. You can start over at Hilltop. I'm sure Jerry and his family will take care of Scab for me."

Carol took in this information and suddenly had tears welling in her eyes.

Her chin and lip trembled. "You want to leave?"

Oliver bit his lip, forcing back tears.

"I just want to get out of here," he said to the ground, then up to her, "and I want to feel at home again, somewhere... anywhere."

"Then I'm going with you," Carol blurted.

Oliver stared at her.

"What? But... Ezekiel—"

"I gave him back his ring this morning, after he told me what he asked you to do."

Oliver was quiet.

"I lost my Sophia," Carol told him. "I lost Lizzie. And Mika. And now... Henry. I'm not about to lose you, too."

They sat there watching each other from the bed and the couch, no sound to be heard but the slow wind rattling the high dusty windows from outside, until Carol nodded in a final sort of way and turned around to pull the moth-eaten bedsheet over herself. With shaking hands Oliver switched off his flashlight. As he laid in his sleeping bag waiting to fall asleep all he could see through the darkness was Carol's pearl earrings gleaming softly under the pale moonlight.

* * *

_Rest against my pillow like the ag__e__ing winter sun  
Only wake each morning to remember that you're gone  
So I drift away again  
To winter I belong_

_My tears are always frozen_

_All I need is to remember  
How it was to feel alive  
I need to remember  
How it was to feel alive..._

* * *

**Notes**

Song was "Winter Bird" by Aurora.

RIP Roan. Found him to be one of the hardest death's to decide on, but it's relevant to Oliver's character developement.

Fuck Quan, right?

And promise I haven't forgotten about the secret Enid was going to tell Oliver before the fair massacre. Will get back to it eventually. Also I gave the Carol-Lydia arc to Enid because I thought the whole Carol seemingly considering killing Lydia thing was ooc. Carol doesn't kill kids because their parents are killers. She kills kids when the kids are killers. We already know this. Why pretend we don't? Otherwise, though, I liked this episode a bunch :)

As always,  
Happy reading.


	13. Along the Potomac River

**fandomismylife **Thank you. Agh, I dunno what you'll think honestly. I'll have to see how you feel when the secret is revealed. And yeah poor Roany. I loved him so much :(

* * *

_Fifty states  
Fifty lines  
Fifty crying all the time's  
Fifty boys  
Fifty lies  
Fifty I'm gon' change my mind's  
I changed my mind  
I changed my mind  
Now, I feel indifferent..._

* * *

After getting the others back to Hilltop, Carol and Oliver left to make the several-day journey for Alexandria together. It took far longer than they were hoping what with the new boarder, Oliver's lousy leg, the steady snowfall, and no horses, but they arrived unscathed. The Alexandrian Council, consisting of Father Gabriel, Michonne, Aaron, Siddiq, Laura, Kyle, and Nora, all welcomed them. Still, Oliver didn't know if he wanted to stay. Things were different from the old neighbourhood he remembered from his adolescence. Since the Fair Massacre everyone was on edge. Someone had sprayed propaganda graffiti across the walls and on people's doors, reading, _'SILENCE THE WHISPERERS' _and everywhere was eerily quiet. Any noise that was made never went ignored either. Heads turned in the streets and curtains drew back as Oliver and Carol made their way to the armoury to check in their weapons, then curtains shifted again as they headed for Michonne's Brownstone apartment to unpack in a spare bedroom.

On the plus side it was wonderful to meet RJ. He had Carl and Rick's features but his curls and his brown eyes and skin were more reminiscent of Michonne. He was shyer than his sister but almost as tall as her despite only being almost six years old. Carol and Oliver played with them until Judith and RJ went to school. Carol left, too, to find Daryl at his apartment. Oliver waited a few minutes for people to leave their windows before he left for the infirmary. He was hoping Enid would be there assisting Siddiq, perhaps, but he found another apprentice with him instead who introduced himself as Dante.

"Hi, Dante," Oliver said. "I'm—"

"You're Oliver," he said.

Oliver nodded. He had always been well known among the communities especially for his time in Alexandria's early days, but now that had changed — everybody knew him best as the man who survived the Fair Massacre.

"I was looking for—"

"Even more handsome than Siddiq told me," Dante said.

Oliver, taken off guard, blinked at him.

Dante laughed. Siddiq sighed.

"Don't pay him any attention," Siddiq advised at Oliver's helpless glance. "Dante, here, thinks that mild harassment is funny. It never ends."

"Oh, don't be so sour, Sid!"

"Anyway," Siddiq said to Oliver, "how can I help?"

"I was just looking for Enid, actually."

"Oh," Siddiq said. He cleared his throat. "Well, Dante's taken over for her."

"What? Why?"

"She quit," Dante said.

Siddiq gave him a warning glare.

Oliver looked at them both, confused. "What's she been doing instead?"

Siddiq shrugged. "Well, I'm not sure. She's been living with Aaron and his daughter, Gracie, I know that. And I know she was asked to become a council member at Hilltop — except she hasn't been back there yet. As for work, for now, she's been doing a lot of guard duty and supply runs. She's out almost every day actually. I think she's out right now."

Oliver nodded, worried sick.

"Hey, err, Siddiq?" he said. "I haven't said it yet, but thank you for speaking on my behalf at the fair. It meant a lot to me."

Siddiq nodded. "How are you doing with all that by the way?"

"I'm fine."

"You can come to me," Siddiq said, "anytime. You can tell me anything. I know stuff sticks. Bad stuff. Sometimes it's good to talk to someone about them. Sometimes it helps."

Oliver glanced at Dante who, despite sitting at a desk across the room now, was clearly listening. The insecure part of Oliver's brain forced a nervous laugh out of himself. "I don't know..." he said to Siddiq, thinking back to Denise sorely. "I've tried therapy before. I don't know how into it I am."

"Oliver, I really think—"

"Hey," Oliver said, desperate for any distraction, "congrats, on the, err… baby."

Siddiq smiled at the ground bashfully.

"Thanks," he said. "It's definitely unexpected, but I'm excited. And I think I'll be ready for it. I think Rosita will be, too. And Gabriel, thankfully, considering he's gonna be the stepfather and all. Although I can't tell you why Eugene seems to be so excited to help out, too, but... hey, I'll take it."

It was an unusual situation between the three —or four— of them for sure, but Siddiq seemed genuinely happy about it, and Oliver was, too. He felt, in a very small and vain part of his mind, that it made Carl's death somewhat less of a waste, but he would never say so aloud for Siddiq's sake even though he suspected Siddiq probably felt somewhat the same way.

"We're going to name it Rafiq if it's a boy," Siddiq added. "It means a kind and compassionate friend, in Arabic. Or Socorro if it's a girl, which means... help and relief, in Spanish — Coco for short."

"They're beautiful names."

Siddiq huffed modestly.

Then a voice came from another room.

"Oh, yeah, Siddiq-y here is _real _a model baby-daddy," it said, "that's for sure..."

Both Oliver and Siddiq swivelled around to an ajar door across the room. It had been several years since Oliver had heard Negan's voice. He felt his stomach lurch painfully.

He twisted to look at Siddiq. "What's _he_ doing here?"

"We moved him during the storm," Siddiq answered. "It was too cold in his cell. It was too cold in our own homes. The whole community moved into two houses for the night to stay warmer—"

"And _while_ we were on the move," Negan chimed in suavely, still out of sight, "little Judy decided it was a good idea to run off after that old dog of Daryl's. Got herself lost in the snow."

Oliver didn't say anything. He watched Siddiq, who shrugged to communicate that it was true.

"He saved her life," he admitted in Oliver's ear. "And Dog's."

Slowly Oliver stepped into the next room. Negan was lying in the bed peering up at him. He looked vastly different from the last time Oliver had seen him. His greying hair had been cut and his beard shaved but what was most alarming was that his hands were purple and swollen and his face was a strange blotchy blue colour, especially around his mouth, ears, nose, and cheeks, as if he'd been burned. Oliver had the same healing wounds on his hand and toes, too, and had even noticed that Judith's nose and cheeks looked a little purple before but nothing as bad as this.

Oliver stared down at him, speechless.

Negan grinned up at him.

"I am hurt, Oliver," he said. "You never said goodbye to me."

* * *

Moments later Oliver was hurrying away from the infirmary, not sure how he was feeling. He was getting that horrible, familiar pang in his chest that told him he didn't belonging anywhere. He wished he could just accept it. He should've been used to it by now.

He was pacing by the lake when he heard the gate opening. Enid and Eugene rode in on horses, coming back from patrol. Eugene was in the middle of some monologue about all the bones in the foot which, despite Enid's late career, didn't seem to engage her in the slightest. She was riding Alden's old horse, Blondie, as well as wearing his tattered, oversized, sooty jacket she'd had at the fair.

Oliver cupped his hands to his mouth. "Een!"

She dismounted and ran towards him, leaving Eugene in the middle of his sentence. He didn't seem to take it personally, though, and instead squeezed his horse on towards the stables. Enid leaped into Oliver's arms. Blondie, looking indignant at the rush Enid had pulled him along in, snorted and threw his golden head up impatiently.

"What are you doing here?" Enid asked.

Oliver shrugged. "I have no idea."

Enid just smiled at him. She looked different in the week since he'd seen her. There was something more frantic about her. Her hair was tangled and her lips were all gnawed and chapped.

"It's good to see you," Oliver said, and added a little too zealously, "on a horse, of all things!"

"Yeah, well," she said, "I'm not very good, yet, but desperate times call for desperate measures."

Oliver smiled. He didn't ask how she was and he didn't ask why she had quit her job or why she hadn't gone back to Hilltop to be on their council and in return she didn't ask him any questions either — they seemed to already know the answers.

"Want to go for a ride?" she asked him instead.

He longed for it but — "I don't have a horse."

Enid's smile fell. "Oh, no... Roan... Oliver, I'm so sorry…"

"Don't be." Oliver shook his head and smiled. "I should have listened to you. Would have made it easier to say goodbye."

She watched him for a few beats and then nodded and took him to the stables. Oliver saddled up a stout, sweet-natured, dapple-grey mare called Traveller. Enid was far more confident with horses than she had been last week. Oliver guessed that taking responsibility for Blondie was her way of feeling closer to Alden or a way of feeling like she had something to look after like with Bean. Maybe both.

They took their time to ride four or five miles south of Alexandria, the opposite way of Alpha's borders, along a deserted road that wound all the way along the Potomac River. Oliver had never been this far south and it was the first time he'd caught any glimpse of the ocean since he was a boy.

He steered Traveller down to the shoreline. As they walked steadily along the gently crashing waves he glanced behind and saw Enid leaned forward and hugging Blondie from the saddle, rubbing down over his broad, golden shoulders. When she noticed Oliver watching she smiled sheepishly and leaned up again.

"He's got soft fur, okay?"

Oliver smiled. "Enid?"

"Yeah."

"What was the secret?" he asked her. "Between you and Alden? You were about to tell me, right before—"

"Nothing, it, uh..." She smiled stiffly. "It... doesn't matter anymore."

Oliver nodded, then jolted suddenly and salty water splashed up against his knees — Traveller was digging at the waves, like she was searching for fish. Oliver patted her dappled shoulder encouragingly, an idea forming in his brain.

"Hey," he called finally. "I think I've figured out what I'm going to do here?"

"What's that?" Enid called back, and Oliver didn't answer her out loud but with his arm, which he raised and pointed south-east out towards the ocean.

* * *

_We were young  
We were young  
We were young, we didn't care  
Is it gone?  
Is it gone?  
Is it floating in the air?  
I changed my mind  
I changed my mind  
Now, I feel indifferent_

_All that time, wasted  
I wish I was a little more delicate  
I wish my  
I wish my  
I wish my name was Clementine..._

* * *

**Notes**

Song was "Clementine" by Sarah Jaffe.

Traveller was named after a famous horse that served during the American Civil War except Oliver's Traveller is a bit of a parody because she is not this tall elegant thing like the original but a stocky, clumsy, immature thing with a heart of gold.

Season 10 next. Gonna try to keep chapters to one a week from here on out. Thanks for reading :)

As always,  
Happy reading.


	14. Lines We Cross

**fandomislife **oh yeah dante has some teeny changes arc-wise in this. Hope you like it. Thank you again for your help this chapter.

**dampish **thank you thank you thank you omg you don't miss a thing lol

* * *

**Shoutout:**

Massive thank you to **fandomismylife** for proofreading this chapter for me. They have their own fics on here that you can read including two TWD fanfics called _A change of Fate _and _The Will to Live_, the former based on the games and the latter on the show. Check them out :)

* * *

_I was listening to the ocean  
I saw a face in the sand  
But when I picked it up  
Then it vanished away from my hands_

_I was painting a picture  
The picture was a painting of you  
And for a moment I thought you were there  
But then again, it wasn't true  
And all this time I have been lying  
Oh, lying in secret to myself  
I've been putting sorrow on the farthest place on my shelf..._

* * *

Joining Oceanside's seining crew had been an easy decision to make for Oliver especially because Carol was as keen on the idea as he was. They left with the first spring boat crew that would have them. The captain was a stern, muscular, Icelandic woman named Thurídur who, although very short, was strong enough to crank the anchor alone with ease while applying her signature deep-maroon lipstick at the same time. The other two crew members were Douglas and Wade Nanti, a pair of hard-working brothers new to Oceanside but not new to the ocean who Thurídur would often call 'Dougade' when referring to them both at the same time.

Boat work was good for Oliver. He enjoyed the maintenance jobs even though they were wet and cold and back-breaking, and he didn't have to run about on his lousy leg very much. He'd even managed to get a knack of working the nets without a right hand. The best part was the most unexpected part, though, which was how the salty sea air seemed to help his asthma.

From March to July Oliver had fallen into the seining routine open-lunged and happy — searching all day for shoals of fish, working the levers and ropes to exhaustion, until the time came at the end of the night when he could collapse in a heap in his cot. Sometimes if Carol's claustrophobia made her avoid the cabins for several nights in a row Oliver would stay out on deck during the night to keep her company, curled up in blankets and sleeping under the stars. No matter how constantly wet and sweltering he was, too, he always found himself looking forward to getting up and doing it all over again every day.

Oliver and the crew were sailing inland after a particularly long voyage this time. Instead of spending a fortnight out to sea at the most they'd ended up spending more than three weeks out there. They had the haul to show for it, too. Below deck the hull was filled to the brim with tuna, shrimp, crabs, and lobsters — as well a few drowned seagulls here and there. And, God, Oliver did not feel sorry for them. Those wretched birds were the only true downside of the ocean. They were no walkers out there but there were enough seagulls to make Oliver miss them. Some days he longed for the calming dulcet tones of the dead in comparison to the harsh deafening guffaws of those gulls.

"There it is..."

Oliver followed Carol's gaze out across the rippling blue to its end where the faint, lumpy, green and yellow slither of land lay in wait for them.

"Home, sweet home," Douglas said, wiping sweat from his face.

It took another half hour or so for the sloping landscapes to swell and grow into something more familiar to them all until they were sailing along the Potomac River towards Oceanside's estuary. They spotted the dock eventually. Several figures were waiting for them. Carol rushed to the boat's bridge and rang the bell. Oliver saw the small figure of Dog pacing along the dock, too, and heard his bark echo across the water.

"Heeey!" Oliver called out, waving wildly.

Connie and Ezekiel waved back. Daryl's whistle carried loud and clear across the water. Carol laughed and rang the bell again and several minutes later Thurídur was steering the boat steadily into the wharf. At the gangway Oliver helped Douglas and Wade lower the brow against the dock. They each took a crate or two and unloaded into a carriage hitched near the waterfront.

Oliver avoided paying attention to Carol and Ezekiel's awkward reunion and greeted Connie and Daryl instead. They made fun of his beard which had grown several inches ever since Oliver finally gave up trying to shave on a continually swaying boat. Carol and Daryl hugged so fiercely she was almost thrown over his shoulder.

"Did ya miss me?" she laughed.

"Not really."

"I'll take that."

Oliver and Connie grinned at them. Oliver tapped Connie's shoulder. He rubbed his cheek in small circles — this was Enid's sign name on account of her full cheeks but considering he wasn't sure how to ask, 'Where is she?' with his hands he hoped this was enough. It was, because in response Connie raised her left hand as if to shake and then sat her two right forefingers on top of her left hand, as if they were riding it. Oliver understood that this meant 'horseback riding' so he nodded, then Connie extended both her hands into two open scissor gestures, one on top of the other, and moved them in a circle.

"Err..."

Connie considered for a second writing the words on her notebook but, with a mischievous grin on her face, snatched an ASL book from Daryl's back pocket and flipped through it, ignoring the affronted look on Daryl's face — Oliver didn't ignore it and noticed, too, that Daryl blushed. Quickly Connie showed Oliver a page and pointed to a diagram of the sign she'd demonstrated before: Patrol.

"Oh," Oliver said, "Enid's out on patrol?"

He wouldn't find this information worrying at all if it weren't for the forlorn look on Connie's face.

"What happened?"

* * *

After discarding the dead seagulls from their loot they drove their loaded carriage to Oceanside where the fish and crustaceans were distributed into three groups for each community and left in a cool-room until Hilltop and Alexandria's share could be delivered. Soldiers from all the communities were at Oceanside for training this week. Judith was around, too, and RJ. Oliver spent some time with them. By noon the patrol crew returned and they went to greet them. Judith and RJ jumped into Michonne's arms. Yumiko, Magna, Luke, and Enid unsaddled their horses at the row of stalls. After long tight hugs from everyone and lots more teasing for his new beard Oliver ushered Enid aside.

"So, did you find anything out there?" he asked her, crossing his arms nervously.

"You heard what happened then?"

"I heard the kids found a Whisperer mask on the beach," he said, "and that now everyone's on alert. I know you guys went out on patrol to search for any other signs of them."

Enid had something tired and angry hidden in her eyes.

"We found some old skins in the woods," she admitted.

Oliver's eyes widened.. Cold sweat crept down his spine.

"Just skins," Enid added. "That's all."

"No one saw Alpha's herd move out," Oliver insisted, "who knows how long they've been back."

He could feel his heart beating in his throat and turned away to lean against the stall wall. In his mind he heard the wet thump of Henry's head hitting the floor at his knees and it was as if the last several months he'd spent healing at sea was washed away completely. He was still stuck in that barn, just like he used to feel stuck in that laundry room. He could even shut his eyes but he would still just... _be there_.

He hated it.

His hands were shaking so he tucked them under his armpits.

He jumped when he felt Enid's hand on his shoulder.

"Do you wanna go for a ride?" she asked.

Oliver inhaled steeply, feeling stupid. He rubbed his neck and nodded.

Enid smiled. "There's an area we just cleared out to get around the river border. It almost leads right to that pretty spot that you can see the Washington monument from. Want to go see it?"

"I'd... love that."

* * *

Enid was so good a rider now that Oliver felt rusty in comparison. She led the way, galloping along dirt tracks and across sloping pastures with Oliver and the sweet, stocky mare, Traveller, following a few strides behind. Eventually they reached a field shrouded by trees and shrubs almost as dense as any woods by now from years of overgrowing. Through the trees they followed a trodden path that eventually led to a gate in the distance. Enid and Blondie raced for it.

"You should go easy on him!" Oliver called out.

"What?" Enid asked. "No! Blondie's been itching to run all day. We both have."

"Alright then," Oliver laughed. "Faster!"

Enid bent low towards Blondie's neck and threw her arms forward with each stride to egg Blondie on so that they were several extra feet ahead and counting, kicking up dirt and grass in their wake. Oliver laughed and encouraged Traveller to keep up but eventually gave up and let her slow to a walk to catch her breath. Birds in trees sang as they passed. Insects crooned. Not a seagull in earshot. It was bliss. When Enid and Blondie reached the gate at the end of the pasture they turned back to look at Oliver and Traveller. Through the trees Oliver could see Enid stand in her stirrups and flip him the bird. Oliver flipped one back, chuckling and out of breath. Traveller, too, snorted in exasperation as if she was wondering why her rider was out of breath when she'd been the one doing all the work.

They finally arrived several minutes later.

"How close is the monument?" Oliver asked. "Will we be able to see it soon?"

"Soon."

After passing through the gate Enid led the way down a narrow path. At the end of it was another gate but it was nothing more than a rotten, crumbling pile on the ground so she coaxed Blondie to take a small hop over it, and then rode him out onto a deserted road. Oliver felt his stomach drop when he saw, across the road, a long line of pikes trailing all the way along the far side of the tarmac. He pulled hard on Traveller's reins before she attempted to jump the gate, causing her to skid slightly in the mud.

"Een, stop."

She didn't.

She rode Blondie right across the road.

"_It's a border!_" Oliver hissed, searching through the trees and twisting in his seat. Traveller turned on the spot, sensing his panic. She tripped against the broken gate and Oliver had yank her steady.

"I know," Enid said. "Ol' Alph's made a whole big circle around her territory now. It's miles and miles long. I'd be impressed... you know, if she didn't disgust me as a human being."

"You said we could make it to the monument by going _around_ the border."

"No, I said we almost could."

She squeezed Blondie on.

"Enid... _don't!_"

She sighed and turned Blondie to face him.

"Why?" she asked. "Why are you so afraid of her?"

"You didn't see what she—"

"I saw enough!" she snapped. "I saw Alden's head, and his body. I saw her beat my dog to death! And I saw you, dragged away. But I got away, didn't I?"

"She's..."

"She killed our friends," Enid growled over him. "She took everything I ever loved, even you..."

Oliver frowned at her. "I'm not gone."

"You are!" she shouted. "You're hiding away on that fucking boat! Running from — I don't even know what anymore!"

They glared at each other.

"Alpha's not special, or stronger than any of us," Enid said. "And this..." She pointed along the pikes slowly. "This is a row of sticks, Oliver. It's — not — real..."

A long cold moment passed. Without speaking to her Oliver turned Traveller around and strode away back up along the path. He was furious. He couldn't believe Enid thought he was a coward, after everything. He was so angry with her that halfway across the large tree-hooded pasture she'd beaten him across before, when he noticed that she was following him, he didn't stop to wait for her.

Just as he got to the end of the pasture, however, he heard a small swear behind him and twisted around to see Enid dismounting and running through the trees without her horse. Oliver turned Traveller around and bolted back along the path, his heart in his mouth. He left his horse with Blondie and sprinted after Enid. He could hear growling through the trees and Enid grunting.

"Watch their hands!" he roared, snatching his combat knife off his hip. He'd not used it yet to kill a walker and gripping it in his hand instead of his old, now lost, knife felt dangerously unfamiliar. Still, the three walkers, which were only walkers, were dead in moments. Regardless Oliver couldn't shake the fear. He had to grip his knee and wait for his adrenaline rush to fade, then he unbent himself, wiped his knife, and yelled at Enid.

"_What the hell was that?!_"

"I was fine!" Enid yelled back.

"You didn't even call for me!"

"You were gone!"

"I was right over—!" He was too furious to argue so he just scowled at her. Without a word he went back to the horses. Enid followed him. They mounted their horses and walked on towards home. Oliver searched for the words to say to her, then said finally, "I don't know what you want from me."

"I don't want anything from you," Enid said. "I want... I want Alden back. And my dog. And I want Alpha and Beta's heads on spikes."

Oliver stared at her until eventually he just shook his head and shrugged. "Yeah. So do I."

"Then why don't you stay longer this time? And help us? Put off this seadog crap for a couple of weeks?"

Oliver sighed. "Carol..."

"Is a grown woman," Enid said, "who can look after herself. Just like you can. It's not like you need her permission to stay."

Oliver nodded. "I know. You're right. I think we all should stay for now."

"Yeah," Enid said. "I mean, you didn't even say goodbye last time. Michonne was furious."

Oliver looked at her. "Were you?"

Enid frowned. "You wish."

Oliver let himself chuckle.

They rode on quietly.

After an hour or so they made it onto the last stretch of road for Oceanside where there was suddenly a loud smack and boom in the distance above their heads. The air quaked and the ground shuddered. The horses wheeled around on the spot in panic. Oliver looked up, gripping Traveller's mane in his hand. His mouth fell open. Something huge crossed the sky, leaving a wake of smoke and fire like a bullet being shot into a pool of water. It fell to the north-west and hit a tree-hooded hill in the distance close enough that the sound and impact swayed the trees around them.

There was an eerie silence then that lasted for several long moments.

They steadied their horses, waiting for something else to happen, listening and watching until finally in a very small voice Enid said, "Oliver?"

"Y— yes."

"You ever think about what happened to the dinosaurs?"

His mouth fell open slightly, gazing, mesmerised, up at the smoke. "Until now, no..."

He heard her swallow.

Smoke began to rise from where the thing had fallen.

"We should go," she whispered.

"Yeah," Oliver whispered back, "okay."

* * *

_And I was running far away  
Would I run off the world someday?  
Nobody knows, nobody knows  
And I was dancing in the rain  
I felt alive and I can't complain  
But now take me home  
Take me home where I belong  
I got no other place to go  
Now take me home  
I can't take it anymore_

_But I kept running for a soft place to fall  
And I kept running for a soft place to fall_

_Now take me home, home where I belong  
I can't take it anymore..._

* * *

**Notes**

Thank you again, **fandomismylife**, for proofreading this chapter. You were so helpful and amazing!

Song was "Runaway" by Aurora.

Lil throwback to Nell's intro when she and the others talked about the dinosaurs lmao.

Also can you imagine Oliver with a beard?

And I saw somewhere that Carol is meant to be the fishing boat captain for her crew and I thought that was ridiculous considering she had virtually no experience especially compared to the Oceansiders so I appointed a different captain, Thur. She is named after the famous Thurídur Einarsdóttir, one of Iceland's greatest fishing captains who lived from 1777 to 1863 and worked from Stokkseyri. She both caught the largest hauls of her time and never lost a single crew member in the 60 years she fished. And then there's Douglas and Wade Nanti, the other crew members, who were just given very lazy and unclever water-related names.

I could never stand working on a boat. I have an aversion against all things that don't breathe air and have sharp teeth. If they have one, that's fine, but both, _no..._

The new Enid is intense and angry because she damn well knows she deserves revenge and nothing anyone can do or say will change that shit. Period.

As always,  
Happy reading.


	15. Ghosts, Part 1: P, B, and J Curse

**fandomismylife **That's a great idea! I'll have to see where the delayed final episode goes. I might have to start splitting pov's between Oliver and Enid and maybe even Carol to be honest. Thank you for the help! Means a lot.

**Dampish** Ahh, thank you so much!

* * *

Thank you so much, **fandomismylife**, for proofreading this chapter!

* * *

This was it. They were crossing Alpha's border to reach the thing that had fallen. Just like in the snowstorm, they were left with no choice. Only instead of the cold being a threat to them it was the fire. If they didn't stop the spread their hunting grounds would be ruined and Oceanside wouldn't stand a chance. But they knew, too, that if the Whisperers caught them in their land it would mean war.

A crushed satellite was sitting in the worst of the flames. They started on the outside and pushed in. Some groups cranked water hose rigs, others dug trenches, while some more buried flames under sand.

Oliver barely dug for fifteen minutes before breathing became so difficult that Carol was forced to haul him away through the smouldering trees. He was coughing and wheezing and puffing on his inhaler with no relief. He barely made it out of the smoke before he collapsed. He didn't know for how long he was unconscious but when he awoke night had fallen. His head felt split into pieces. He was squashed inside an Oceanside carriage that was otherwise filled with sand, barrels of water, shovels, and buckets. He sat up carefully and saw more carriages hitched along the road in a row. Alpha's piked boarder was lined before them. Through it, and through the misty woods, Oliver could see a faint orange glow from far away, and hear distant yelling voices.

He cursed under his breath, then coughed violently.

Thurídur, standing outside the carriage on watch with a speargun over her shoulder, turned to face him with a surprised frown knitting her brows together. "How are you feeling, Olifer?" she asked sternly. "You want inhaler, nei?"

He found it hard to speak so he nodded and fished around inside his pockets. His inhaler was gone. "I must've— must've dropped it."

"Ah," Thurídur said, and held up a finger while she reached into her fanny-pack with her other hand. "You use mine, okay?"

"Sure. Thank you."

"Oh, já. No problem."

Oliver took a long slow breath of Ventolin. When he tried to hand it back to Thurídur she shook her head and pushed it towards his chest.

"You keep, for now," she said. "I am feeling fine without so long as I stay here, away from flame and smoke. I keep lookout. I get supplies, fill up water tanks, and I keep you öndun!"

Oliver cleared his throat and asked croakily, "Öndun?"

"Mmm, means, eh... breath, in lungs."

He pocketed the inhaler gratefully. "I didn't know you had asthma, too."

She nodded earnestly. "No-one does because of our good sea air. Saltvatn — keeping nose, throat, lungs... _free_. I grow strong lungs now. Not weak like when small. It is why I fish. It is why I elska ocean!"

Oliver smiled. "I, err... like it, too."

She nodded to him like she knew this and then she turned away to survey along the border. Every now and again a singed squirrel or racoon would scurry out and across the road towards safety, leaving a small trail of ash in its wake. Someone yelled something very far away and the carrying noise of a creaking tree could be heard.

"It doesn't sound good in there," Oliver said, his mouth dry.

Thurídur shook her head slowly. "Not good. Fire is spreading."

"What can we do?"

"Stay here. Fill buckets. Not slow them down."

Oliver sighed like a child being told off.

"It will be a long wait, Olifer," Thurídur said gravely. "Better focus on öndun. Later, worry about other things."

Oliver and Thurídur kept watch together all night. They filled water caskets whenever someone came running with an empty barrel and they replaced broken shovels and they shovelled sand into empty buckets. A steady staggering of walkers came along all night and to the morning, attracted by the light from the flames. Oliver and Thurídur kept quiet and quick enough to take out as many as they could while radioing in to everyone inside the border so that they would be ready to deal with the rest. Finally, when the sun was high over their heads, the fire was out and groups began returning, coated in ash and dirt, to take their carriages and equipment with them as they headed on back to their respective communities. The final convoy consisting of Michonne, Eugene, Yumiko, Luke, Enid, and Magna returned carting wheelbarrows full of what Oliver eventually realised was satellite parts with them.

"Is that safe?" Oliver asked. "Like, won't it be all radiated or something?"

"Don't worry, man," Luke said. He had a new mace. Its head resembled two large metal gears fitted together. He rested it over one shoulder and shrugged. "Eugene says we're not getting superpowers today."

Oliver felt himself smiling in spite of himself. He helped them load up the last carriage. When they were done he handed Thurídur back her inhaler and she patted his shoulder firmly enough that his knees buckled.

"This will earn us kudos, eh?" Thurídur asked Michonne. "Putting out fire — good for Alpha's people, too. Eh?"

"We did good for _our_ people," Michonne said sourly. "That's enough for me."

Thurídur gave a relenting shrug. "Já, frú."

"Wait," Oliver said, "where are Carol and Daryl?"

Just as he asked this the pair of them came rushing towards the boarder. They crossed, checking over their shoulders, out of breath, and bent into their knees. Daryl could hardly catch his breath but finally after a large inhale he grunted out, "Alpha saw us. She knows."

* * *

Alexandria was where everyone would be safest in anticipation of Alpha's retaliation. Although they'd heard nothing from the Whisperers in person after their trespass they still suspected it was by Alpha's command that the waves came. Clusters of walkers arrived the next afternoon. The sound of people yelling woke Oliver up from his exhaustion lie-in. It woke most of Alexandria up by the looks of it when he and everyone who'd fought the fires the night before came stumbling bleary-eyed from their houses half-dressed out of their sleepwear.

After two more days the clusters had not yet stopped. Wave after wave and more incoming waves being tracked by lookouts from miles away, with only small gaps of rest in between. Oceanside and Hilltop were on lock-down, too, but so far neither had been hit according to Cyndie and Ezekiel over the radios so they decided to send their remaining soldiers to help at Alexandria. Everyone stuck to their training and worked hard in defending the place.

"There's more coming!"

By the third morning Oliver, filthy and exhausted, had barely sat down in the grass by the gate for a minute, his head cradled in his arms after almost no sleep, when he jumped up an instant later when the incoming cluster was spotted coming along the driveway. Running on fumes he took his place at the gate again, combat knife wielded. As the walkers impaled themselves on the spikes he and the others picked them off until they were all dead. Oliver was so tired he had to gulp down vomit. They got to removing the bodies from the spikes and leaving them out of the way, ready for the next wave, long since abandoning any hope of sleep. A belief reinforced further when Eugene alerted them all that another cluster was expected to arrive in under an hour. It looked like another night at the gate and Oliver felt like both a solid man and a liquid one — strong enough to pierce a skull but so weak that with one push, emotional or physical, he might shatter.

"Hey, heads up!"

A walker was approaching alone. Oliver saw the different skin texture between the face and the body and immediately drew his knife. The Whisperer wore a dirty, purple, flannel shirt. She stopped before the gate spikes, a bored lilt to her posture.

"The north border," she said, "now."

"Call off your walkers," Michonne ordered.

"Not us."

"Yeah, right?" Daryl growled.

"Not _us.._." She looked at Michonne and said again, "Go to the border, lay down your weapons, and wait."

"Wait for what?"

"Her..."

* * *

The Alexandria council announced a community meeting. While some people were left on watch for the next wave Oliver joined everyone else in the loud and crowded mess hall. Quan, who had arrived with the volunteer convoys to help with the waves, caught eyes with him as he crossed the room, then smiled this tiny bit, almost consolingly. Oliver looked away, frowning at the table in front of himself. He was suddenly overcome by the sensation to kick the chair opposite but he didn't because Carol was sitting in it. He peeked up to watch Quan sit next to Brandon a few rows of seats ahead, to Oliver's relief. Brandon shot leering looks across the room because Oliver was stupid enough to get caught glaring at them. He tried not to lament over this, which was easier when Enid slumped into the seat beside him. She looked to be in a foul mood, though, so Oliver decided it was best not to try to speak to her.

Fighting against their fatigue, he, Carol, and Enid tried to concentrate on the meeting, which was about to begin. People were arguing over one another while Michonne tried to settle them. Oliver waited for the noise to stop. He felt heavy now that he had more than a moment to sit down. It was all he had to resist falling asleep. Finally Michonne had had enough and let out a loud shout as she banged her fists against the table. Oliver, dozing off, almost jumped out of his chair. The crowd fell silent.

Michonne turned to Lydia. "Is this your mother?"

"No. I don't think it is."

"Why does she want to talk with us?" Daryl asked, standing at a pillar beside her.

"You crossed into her land," Lydia answered shyly. "Again. You have to answer for that."

"We don't have to do anything," Aaron said. "We could just not go."

"That's a bad idea."

"We're already under attack," Enid said.

People in the hall shouted their agreement.

"It isn't her," Lydia insisted. "If she wanted you dead she'd send the horde. All of it, not just a few waves at a time."

"Maybe she's trying to wear us down first," Carol suggested.

Eugene began suggesting that it might be the satellite and fire that's drawing the dead but a Highwayman, a woman named Margo, cut him off — "I don't want to hear about the damn satellite anymore, Eugene! My friends died trying to save yours and ended up with their heads on spikes."

Before thinking Oliver was yelling at her. "Nobody asked you to help us in the first place! _You_ came to the Kingdom. It was _your_ choice to stick your noses into all of this! If you want to try blaming anybody but yourself for that then vaffanculo!"

Margo glowered at him and a small argument broke out between the Highwaymen and those either defending what Oliver had said or apologising on his behalf. Through it all Oliver heard one Highwayman tell Michonne, "All I want to hear from you is that you're gonna take a dozen of us to meet these freaks at the border and that we're gonna take that lead bitch's head off!"

"We cut it off!" Alfredo, another Highwayman, shouted.

"And then we'll put their heads on spikes!" Gage yelled.

Oliver glared ahead of himself.

"So," Michonne said to them, "what's your plan for taking them out?"

None answered.

"Oh," she added, "that wasn't rhetorical..."

"We don't have one," a Highwayman said.

"Does anybody?" Michonne asked. "If she still plans on sending her horde, that's it!"

"It might not even be real," someone said.

"It is," Lydia said gravely. "I've seen it."

Michonne sighed. "Right now, all she wants to do is talk. And we are going to listen. Now, while we are doing that, everyone here needs to focus on the two clusters coming in from the north and the south."

"What clusters?"

"The north one is the one coming next, it's dense, but we can take it. The south one is more dispersed, and further away, so we'll need some volunteers to go out and put it down before it gets here," Michonne explained.

Displeased murmurs were heard throughout.

Michonne looked at Oliver, silently asking if he was on board with this.

He nodded moodily.

"We're tired," Michonne said with a struggling sense of hope and determination in her voice. "We are on edge. And it is going to get worse before it gets better. But we aren't gonna get through it at all if we do not act as one. Three objectives means three groups. Gabriel will take point in guarding the gate from the northern wave while Aaron will take some troops and handle the southern wave, breaking it up before it hits the wall."

She looked at Carol, Daryl, and the remaining, unassigned council members.

She said to them, "That leaves us to the border."

"Unarmed," Carol said, "really?"

"We got no choice," Daryl said, and stalked off out of the hall to get ready.

* * *

After wishing Carol and the others luck Oliver volunteered to help Aaron with the southern wave. He wanted to use the opportunity to have a word with Enid, too, who had also volunteered with the southern wave, but Aaron suggested Oliver stay at Alexandria to help with the northern wave instead.

"Why?"

"You have a bad leg," Aaron said, "and a missing arm."

"Aaron, we literally have the same amount of arms."

Aaron was sporting a spiked mace on his prosthetic today. He gave a disregarding sigh and opened his mouth to speak but Oliver cut him off.

"Come on, man, I've been cooped up on a boat for months. My leg is as good as it's ever going to be and I'm ready for some real work..."

This was possibly the worst thing Oliver could have said because in response Aaron smiled and simply said, "Fine. Then you've got Negan duty."

Oliver blinked at him. He saw Enid smirk from where her and the rest of Aaron's crew were preparing their things but she stopped and turned her head away when she saw him glare at her.

"Off you go," Aaron added, pushing a broomless broomstick into Oliver's arms. "He's waiting in his cell."

"No," Oliver said, like the word meant anything at this point, like he hadn't just dug his own hole and handed over his resume at the same time. Aaron ignored him and continued instructing his group so Oliver tried again. "Come on, man, why me?"

"You wanted some 'real work', right?" Aaron said. "It'll give me more time to focus on the rest of the troops. Plus, Negan likes you."

"He did before I ignored him for half a decade."

"Peanut butter..." Aaron said, and made a motion to himself, as if lifting some pre-placed curse, which he promptly seemed to cast upon Oliver instead, "go and get jelly from his cell."

"Wha—"

"You're taking him off my hands. End of discussion."

"Aaron—"

"That's an order!"

He handed Oliver a set of keys and a pair of rusty handcuffs which were all rather difficult to carry with one hand along with the broomless broomstick. Oliver shook his head and grumbled to himself all the way to the Brownstone apartments. Tiredness was taking its toll on him — on everyone, apparently, considering Aaron's choice to make him do this. Oliver had barely any experience in prison guard duty, let alone Negan guard duty. It had been years since he'd even spent any time with Negan at all. He pulled his composure together by the time he got to Michonne's apartment. Brandon was on guard outside the basement door. He let Oliver past once he saw the keys in his hand. Oliver didn't fail to notice the snide smirk on Brandon's face as he went inside.

Descending those steps for the first time in what felt like decades was awful for Oliver. The last time he'd done this he'd been sore over a lost love, lonely, and hopeless. Doing it again now made him wonder just how much all that had really changed. He tried not to think about it.

"Ah, I was wondering how long you lot were going to stick me on clean up. Time for me to get my hands dirty, I suppose. Might've — oh..." Negan stopped talking when he saw who was coming down to unlock his cell door. His frostbite had healed but his fingers and nose had still scarred a faint shiny purple colour. "Where's Aaron?" he asked, then laughed. "And when did you grow a beard?"

Oliver didn't answer him and instead stepped into the cell. It had been decorated since the last time he saw it. There was a bookshelf, a nicer pillow, more blankets, and a hanging plant in one corner above the bed.

"Erm, you're supposed to throw me the handcuffs," Negan said, "_before_ you unlock the door."

"I don't care," Oliver said. "I'm tired. If you want to try escaping, I won't stop you."

He stood waiting for Negan to hold out his arms. He did after a small confused chuckle. Oliver handcuffed him and then patted the chain between the cuffs to communicate that Negan could drop his hands. Negan did, tipping his head back as if attempting to get a better look at Oliver from a taller angle only they were the same height entirely. This was strange to Oliver, who in his own mind, still caught himself, sometimes, in the mentality of being much younger and smaller than everyone, especially in comparison to Negan. It was always a little odd to be reminded that he was just as tall and threatening as most of the adults he used to be nervous of, certainly much taller and more threatening than he imagined himself. Faking indifference to all this, Oliver gave Negan a stern nod, then turned and led the way out of the cell and up the stairs.

"Look, kid," Negan said as they got outside, squinting against the sunshine, "if it's all the same to you, which it looks to me it is, considering your stand-offish attitude, I'd rather just stay here and pick tomatoes and bury corpses."

"Aaron wants you out there."

"Yeah, well, I want me in here," Negan replied. He tipped his head at the dirty cell window to his right, smirking, then lowered his voice to a whisper. "A little birdy..." he said, stealing a conspicuous glance in Brandon's direction, "has been slipping me some dirty magazines that I want to... spend some time with, if you know what I mean."

Brandon, whose face was suddenly bright pink, cleared his throat and avoided Oliver's eyes. Oliver cocked an eyebrow at him anyway.

"Especially after the last few days," Negan went on, that old cocky grin on his face. "I mean, a man can only look at so many dead bodies before he forgets the pure beauty of a nice, fresh, pair of—"

"I get it. But you're coming."

Negan smiled. "It seems I am not, but I understand."

"Why don't you swear anymore?" Oliver asked.

Negan's grin changed to something more contemplative. "Oh, I grew out of that. I think you are going to be surprised at just how clean yours truly has become nowadays."

"Sure," Oliver replied slowly.

As he turned around to keep walking Negan said from behind him, "Just you wait!"

* * *

**Notes**

Once again, immensely grateful to **fandomismylife **for proofreading this chapter for me. Thank you for putting up with my sorry, complicated, relationship with commas.

In my mind Oliver is about Rick's size now. I know Rick is an inch or so shorter than Negan but I figure, considering Negan has been worked like a mule for the past 7 years, he's probably lost at least _some_ height, especially now that he's older, so yeah. Do with that mental image as you will.

I really love Thurídur she reminds me a lot of Red from OITNB. Thur is basically the Icelandic version of Red. With her lipstick, and her momma bear attitude, only Thur is built like a tank in my imagination and she puts far less effort into seeming intimidating and instead just is openly a softie.

Also I took out the arc where Alpha showed Daryl the horde. I'm making it so everyone things the horde threat was a bluff, and that after the Fair Massacre the two sides were 'even', until Alpha found out they'd trespassed, of course.

As always,  
Happy reading.


	16. Ghosts, Part 2: The Worst Thing You Did

**fandomismylife **lololololololol

**Dampish** Loving the love for Thur, she is wonderful. And hmm, that... is a good idea... hmm... will think about it. Thanks! And yeah, fuck Brandon.

_**Shoutout, once again, to fandomismylife, for being a much better writer than me, and helping me organise this chapter into something readable. Always grateful!**_

* * *

Excuse how this took a minute; despite quarantine my landlord decided to sell and I, partner, and pooch have had to move out last minute. Good times. Might start selling commissioned smutty one-shots in order to afford food. Any takers? Kidding, unless... Anyway, here's another chapter because how else do you expect me to cope, honestly?

* * *

_Sweaty palms as I walk down this empty road  
I got a mom, but we ain't spoke in — I don't know  
I got a heart that don't speak to me anymore  
And life gets hard but these last days been meanin' more  
I'm just tryna get my bands up  
Why you runnin' through the banners  
I don't understand this  
You should find your way home..._

* * *

Everyone in Aaron's group were extremely keen to avoid contact with Negan at all costs, so Oliver, through the negative association of being his guard, was more or less ostracised from the main group, too. Eventually the two of them were sent off to double check an area that had been cleared already, as one group member admitted they'd not done their section patrol thoroughly enough. Even Enid didn't volunteer to accompany them.

Begrudgingly, Oliver and Negan circled back to check it out. The sun was setting. Sure enough, there was a small isolated clearing that had several lurkers unaccounted for; stragglers of the section of herd they'd previously been picking off. The two of them put down bodies easily enough. After, while catching his breath, Oliver wiped off his combat knife on a nearby, neglected, tractor tire.

"Oh, lookie here..." Negan said from behind him.

Glancing round, Oliver watched the old man set his broomless broomstick aside and instead raise a rusty black crowbar out from under the tractor hood. After twirling it for several seconds in his hands, Negan looked at him.

"What?"

Oliver shrugged, sheathing his knife.

"Look, kid," Negan grovelled, "we both know that this broomstick ain't cutting it."

Another shrug from Oliver, and a yawn, too. "Go ahead," he said.

Negan huffed a small chuckle, surprised, then narrowed his eyes. "You do know that security is usually a lot less _lax_ when it comes to me, don't you?"

Without answering, Oliver leaned against the tractor door to let off some pressure on his leg. It was beginning to ache slightly which was usually a sign to tell him that it was about time he treated it a little more kindly for a while.

"Wait," Negan added, "as I live and breathe, all those years ago, after all that chatting heart to heart down in my cell before you went and left me without saying goodbye... does a part of you _actually_ trust me? Because if so, I am surprised, as you would be the _first_ to come to that revelation."

Oliver narrowed his eyes. "I don't trust you."

"Then what is it about me that makes you so... comfortable?"

Oliver faked a smile to mimic Negan's false suave attitude. "Don't worry about it," he replied, resting his head against the tractor side and shutting his heavy eyes. "Just keep the crowbar."

Negan made a small amused sound. "Oh, right, yeah... because 'you don't care', right? And 'you're tired'... poor you."

Oliver opened his eyes, but didn't look at him.

"Come on," Negan insisted. "Be honest with me."

Oliver sighed, and stood up properly. He expected to feel angrier than this. After all, the last several years' worth of hatred for this man was finally being reckoned with, to the man who had directly caused it all, no less. Only there was nothing. Oliver felt nothing. Calmly, he answered, "Worst you could do is run, or try to kill me, but I don't think you will. I don't think you could. And I think you know it, too. Because I know _you_ know I'm not just some 'kid' like you remember me."

"You know that, huh?"

Oliver nodded. "I know you're a sad, too, and weak, and lonely, and old."

Negan gave an offended huff, but like always the smugness returned as he said, "I wouldn't try to kill you, by the way. But I would be inclined to try to run. Bet you'd let me do it, too. Bet you'd just let me walk away from here, huh?"

"Sure."

"And I bet you wouldn't give one damn about me, either. Even if it landed you in trouble back home."

"Nope."

"Then how about I do it?"

Oliver looked him in the eyes. "_D__o it._"

And then out of nowhere Negan's eyes grew wet.

He looked at the ground and sighed. "I really am trying to make things better, you know. I am not that guy you remember me as, either."

Oliver grimaced, disappointed, and something else, like ashamed. He cleared his throat. Something rustled nearby and they both turned to watch three walkers emerge from the treeline. Instantly, Negan marched over and took the two nearest to him, crowbar swinging.

"Oh, damn. Hold up!"

"Why?" Oliver asked, facing the last walker as it approached him.

Negan pointed to the corpses he'd just killed. "Hogweed's growing on 'em, see?"

Oliver could see — a tall hairy plant with clusters of tiny white flowers was wound around the walkers' chests and faces, weaving in their ears and out their eyes, wet sap oozing. Negan raised his forearm to show Oliver, too, an angry swelling of blisters forming.

"Nasty stuff," Negan said, standing back. He prodded at his blister and hissed. "Bad for the eyes, the skin, and no good for you if the pollen gets in your lungs..."

Again Oliver took several steps back from his oncoming walker. With careful aim he threw his combat knife hard between its eyebrows. It slumped to the ground with a weak shriek and after the pollen settled, Oliver held his breath and retrieved his knife, wiping the blade on a clump of long grass. He returned to Negan, took a canteen from his bag, and gestured for Negan to hold out his arm, pouring water slowly over the blisters.

Negan thanked him.

Oliver shrugged. "We should go home. You need to see Siddiq."

"Ah, well, I appreciate the concern, kid," Negan said, smiling through a pained grimace.

"Not a kid anymore, remember?"

"Ah, yeah. _The beard_." Negan squinted at him similarly to how a physician might've glared at a blackboard. "Whereabouts are you now then, early-twenties?"

"Twenty-four."

"Wow. Time sure moves super-duper slow when you're locked up in a cell."

Oliver huffed. "Whatever. Let's go. Come on."

"Wait, wait, wait. Are you serious? What is wrong with you?" Negan demanded, his laugh strained. "I am all blistered up here, and on top of that, I've been puttin' my neck on a block for you people all Goddamn day! And you can't even manage a 'thank you'?"

"Thank — _you_?" Oliver argued. "After everything you've—_!_ You bastardo! If you were looking out for us, you'd fuck off, now. _That's_ what we all need!"

Negan watched him for several seconds until, very gently —too gently for a man who used to beat people to death with a barbed baseball bat— he said, "Hey, man... I get it. Carl was a good kid, but you have to know, it wasn't my fault that he died."

Oliver shook his head, amazed.

"You have to know that," Negan insisted. "I protected him!"

Oliver grimaced. "Excuse me?"

"Now, I didn't protect much for you people, I know that," Negan admitted, "but I did protect him."

"You beat him," Oliver said through gritted teeth, filled out of nowhere with all that anger he thought he didn't have anymore and it was there and it was building and he couldn't stop it for anything. "I saw you do it. _I was there!_ Sure, you didn't get him bit, but Carl still died bruised... and burned… and in pain... _BECAUSE OF YOU!_"

Negan opened his mouth, then closed it. He rubbed his forehead.

"I remember what he said to me," Oliver went on, his voice thick and shaking now, eyes stinging, "after we got away from you, when I realised he was bit — we were trying to get to the others, in the sewers, and he was standing there in the grey-water and I didn't want to keep going. I wanted to give up. And he said to me, _'I'm not strong enough on my own...'_ That's what Carl told me. He was so afraid... and in so much pain. And... and that feeling? It never went away. _N__on è mai andato via..._"

He looked at Negan's face. It was all arched and sad.

"I hate you for that," Oliver told him. "I hate you for making _that_ his last night alive."

"I..." Negan shook his head. He swallowed. As he spoke he kept his eyes on the ground. "I am... _sorry_."

"No, you aren't," Oliver muttered. "Because you'd do it again if you had to."

Negan hunched his shoulders. It wasn't an action quite like a shrug but rather as if he was trying to look smaller. "That was the world I lived in — the world you're still living in," he explained, his voice gravelly now like his throat was hurting. "If you don't protect what belongs to you, then sooner or later it belongs to someone else. That goes for your land, your wallet, your home, your—"

"Yeah, yeah," Oliver hissed, "you're either the butcher or the cattle. I've heard it all before. _Before you_. And they got what they deserved, too. You're no different. And you're no different to what's going to come to that Alpha bitch, either!"

Oliver had said it before he'd given his brain permission to and a rush of adrenaline hit his heart. He had to grip the tractor hood as not to let the panic attack get him. He blinked a few times and turn away from Negan, not wanting him to see him like this.

"Bet you still want to kill me then, huh," Negan asked. He wasn't challenging him. He wasn't even smiling. Not even at the sight of Oliver's struggle. He was just asking, like he had all those years ago, and Oliver glared at him, shaking his head.

"What good would it do?" he asked. "You'd only get what you wanted. And I'd be left to remember."

Negan sighed. Oliver couldn't tell if he was relieved or disappointed. He didn't like realising that Negan might've even felt sorry for him.

"I get it," Negan said. "When my wife died, she—"

"I don't care about Lucille," Oliver growled. "I'm not fucking listening to you anymore. I've heard it before. _You've told it all to me before!_"

Negan had a horrible look of surrender on his face then. Oliver just stood there burning up with all that terrible pent-up anger searing inside his bones.

A small cluster of walkers emerged from the trees.

Glad for a distraction, Oliver marched forward, knife drawn.

"Oliver, wait, look!"

He stopped. Negan was pointing. Vines of hogweed were growing in and out of them. Oliver staggered back, tripped over the tractor tire and landed in the dirt on his bad leg. He yelped in pain. Another cluster was coming through the trees on the other side of them, and suddenly Negan was there, towering over him. Out of reflex Oliver almost sunk his knife into the old man's calf but instead was yanked to his feet by the collar.

"Get up and run, you damned cripple!" Negan barked. "Don't make me throw your twink ass over my shoulder!"

Oliver had little time or thought to express his distaste beyond an angry growl before he turned and ran as fast as his bad leg could carry him, clutched under Negan's arm.

"The farmhouse," Oliver grunted, spotting a broken fence and a small building beyond. "Go on, I'll catch up!"

Negan ignored him, instead pulling him along in his stride and causing a series of painful squishy crunches to pang inside Oliver's ankle.

"Go, man! I'm faster than them!"

"Barely!"

Oliver shoved him off. Negan sprinted ahead and was at the house in moments, pulling the door open with a loud crash. A horribly wider space was left between them than Oliver had expected. He hurried up. Walkers were coming from every direction now, all their attention on him. Had he been shouting that loudly? Was he really this slow?

"Negan!"

Negan watched, the door handle gripped in his fist, an impatient frown on his face.

"_Wait!_" Oliver begged, running for his life. "Negan, wait!"

And against all expectation, Negan did wait, a hand outstretched at the last moment and when Oliver grabbed it he was hauled inside the house — the front door was slammed closed behind him as he collapsed against the staircase opposite. He twisted around onto his back, sprawled and panting as Negan blocked the door with a large cabinet. Ornaments inside clattered and fell out, smashing at Oliver's boots. The growling outside got louder. Dark, dead hands banged against the windows.

After several breathless moments, Negan sighed, then sauntered off in search for any loot inside the kitchen cupboards. When he found nothing but a dusty rag to wrap around his blisters, he went and sat on an armchair opposite a smashed television, pressing buttons on a dusty remote controller.

"Ah, this feels good," he sighed. "Like the old days... with a bit of imagination."

Oliver rose slowly from the bottom stair. Quietly, he made sure the house was secure. The back door and all the windows were already boarded, curtains drawn. Oliver peered outside through a narrow gap between boards at a wide, snarling, rotten mouth.

"There's only ten or twenty of them," he whispered, "they'll move on soon enough."

"I suggest you shut up, then," Negan replied, "and come sit down."

Oliver waited several moments, just to establish the decision was his own, before walking over and sitting rigidly on the couch across from Negan, frowning as the old man continued to play with the remote controller.

"Were you going to lock me out?" Oliver asked.

Negan turned in his seat, scowling. "What— How— I cannot believe you."

"It wouldn't be the worst thing you've ever done."

"Oh," Negan chuckled, turning back to the dead television, "_I_ know that."

* * *

Over the next few hours, the sunlight outside faded to black. Oliver and Negan couldn't see each other in the darkness, and didn't speak beyond alerting each other of any changes outside. They spent the rest of their time listening and waiting. Negan continued to click uselessly at the remote buttons every once in a while until finally, as Oliver was dozing off into a restless exhaust-sleep, Negan spoke.

"Speaking of, what is the worst thing you've ever done?"

Oliver startled awake, grimacing and yawning. "What?"

"The worst thing you did, ever, come on?"

Oliver sighed. "Look, just fuck off, okay? That was hours ago."

He could hear Negan smile. "Do you use that word so much because of me? I mean, I'm not saying I invented it or anything but I like to think of myself as somewhat of an influence."

He sighed in Oliver's silence.

"Come on, I'm just trying to kill time — humour me?"

Oliver didn't, pointedly keeping the base of his skull firmly rested against the couch headrest, to which Negan huffed and clicked away at his remote.

"Well, if you won't humour me, then I'll humour myself." He released a long, self-indulging sigh. "The worst thing I ever did was leave my wife to rot."

Oliver lifted his head and frowned through the darkness. "You didn't bury her?" he asked, not catching the curious zeal in his voice until he'd already spoken.

"Didn't even put her down, for Christ's sake," Negan answered, groaning a weak chuckle. "Someone else did for me. She died... hating me."

Oliver didn't like this; he didn't like thinking Negan might start crying or something. So, not because he was interested in rescuing Negan's feelings, but simply to keep the conversation going, Oliver told him, "I didn't bury my parents. Not right away."

"Really?"

"My brother and I left them in their bedroom after they turned. Don't ask me how we managed it without killing ourselves. It wasn't until a couple years later that I finally got to go back and put them down myself. Carol helped me bury them. My mom was pregnant." Oliver rested his chin on his thumb, winding his fingers through the hair he'd grown there. He grimaced across the room, searched for Negan's form through the blackness, but saw nothing but a vague shadow. "You ever seen a walker foetus? Like, not fully developed yet, but still, you know… grown enough to... move?"

"Jesus..." Negan groaned, as if he'd never heard of something worse — Oliver felt a sick sense of vindictive pleasure at managing this feat. "You never told me about that."

Oliver shrugged. "Neither did you, about Lucille."

Negan sounded like he might've been chewing his fingernails. "Your turn," he said finally, "unless that was your turn."

In spite of himself, Oliver thought for a long minute. He thought of the people he'd killed, all nine of them —Mikey, 'Chelle, Merope, the two Junkyard people, two Saviours, and just recently those two Whisperers — and that was only if he didn't count the deaths he'd indirectly caused way back at Terminus. He thought, too, of how Carl had been bitten all those years ago, how, if Oliver hadn't had a broken leg, he could have been there to help him and Siddiq. The pain in his leg was there forever as a reminder of what he could have done, and what he couldn't, and its cost. Then he remembered the grove, and how distracted he'd been when he was supposed to be babysitting the girls while Carol and Tyreese were out fetching water. How, if he'd just paid a little more attention, Mika and Lizzie might still be alive today. He even cast a shameful thought at the Claimers, and the things he didn't have the power to stop them from doing to him, until he reminded himself, like he sometimes had to, that none of that had been his fault. And then over all of that, always, was something before any of it entirely that truly stuck in his mind the most, after all this time.

"My brother," he answered, "he got sick with this pig flu. It spread around where we were living—"

"The prison, right? I heard about that."

"Pat was the first to get sick," Oliver said. "The night before he caught it, Carl and I went to the pig pen. A pig, Violet, gave birth. We were in there with her and all her piglets. I guess we were asymptomatic or something, but we were carriers. The worst part though is that my brother left our cell in the night, 'to cool down,' he told me... and I didn't go with him... so, yeah... the worst thing I ever did was let my brother die alone."

Sighing, Oliver rubbed his hairline with his stump.

Negan sucked his teeth.

"You were a child," he said consolingly.

Oliver rubbed his knees and got up quickly. He'd had enough of this, of Negan being _consoling,_ of all things, so he checked the gap in the boarded windows. Through the darkness, he made out a few bodies still milling about, but the majority had gone.

"They thinned out," he whispered. "We could take the ones left, then get going home?"

Negan groaned. "I'm parched," he said, "and hungry. You got any food?"

Oliver sighed. "You don't want to go home."

"What, back to my cosy little cell? Can't wait."

Oliver didn't care enough for Negan's sarcasm to argue with it. He knew it was probably safer to leave in the morning anyway so he went to his bag and brought out a stuffed BLT he'd made at Alexandria. He nudged Negan's shoulder with the sandwich half, his share, then passed over his water canteen. They ate in darkness. When they were finished, Negan stood up and went to the door.

"Where are you going?" Oliver asked, wiping crumbs from his mouth.

"I'm gonna keep watch."

Oliver watched his silhouette as it cut through some dim moonlight. "If you're trying to escape, I already told you: I won't stop you."

Negan's footsteps shifted on the wood floor. "Then why are you bringing it up? Why not just let me come up with some dog-shit excuse and disappear while you're asleep?"

"Because I don't want to think someone's keeping watch when they aren't," Oliver answered. "If you're going, go, but if you aren't, I want to sleep _without_ worrying about my security."

"Oh, I'm your security now? Look, I heard your mom was some queen now but I didn't peg you to be so cocky as to see yourself as a prince."

Oliver shrugged disinterestedly. "You were the one saying you'd keep watch."

Negan seemed to find this funny.

"Sleep, kid—" He sighed. "_Oliver__._ I'll keep watch."

* * *

Oliver managed to have the rare experience of sleeping deeply and truly all night until he awoke naturally the next day from a nice dream he'd been having — something about pirates and Carl with an eyepatch and a parrot only the parrot was really Oliver's missing hand. It even squawked.

Yawning, he sat up and looked around the empty living area. After a satisfying stretch, he squinted through the boarded window and saw Negan sitting outside on the porch, crowbar against his knee.

Oliver went out, backpack on his shoulder and rubbing sleep from his eyes. "What time is it?"

"I don't know," Negan answered, his voice faint like he was emerging from a daydream. "Sun's been gone over our heads, so, maybe three, four p.m.?"

Oliver's eyes widened. "Merda! And you didn't wake me?"

"I didn't wake you."

Oliver didn't know what to say. He hadn't slept so peacefully since he and his crew were out to sea. Negan smiled knowingly, bags under his eyes. Oliver frowned back —not wanting Negan to think his actions had touched him— and without speaking left the farmhouse for Alexandria. Negan followed, tossing aside his crowbar.

* * *

A search party found them near Alexandria. Everyone had expected the worst out of Oliver and Negan's disappearance. Once they got back, Brandon, who looked disappointed about something, took Negan back to his cell. Aaron was distraught at the thought of Oliver being stranded with Negan all night under his command and Michonne was furious that Oliver was stupid enough to get stranded in the first place. Enid punched him in the chest, almost knocking him off his feet, then grabbed him into a rough hug that hurt almost as much as her fist. Oliver was glad to be back. When everyone finally seemed satisfied by Oliver's story, Aaron and Enid went home to Gracie while Michonne told Oliver that the walker waves had finally seemed to wane — no more than a few stragglers here and there now.

"Alright," Oliver said, "tell me the bad news."

Michonne seemed to forget how well Oliver knew her, even if there had been several years' worth of time missed together. She sighed and said, "Carol got injured."

"At the border?"

"No," Michonne said, "after that, while we were holed up at a school for the night. She cut her arm. She says it was an accident but — I don't know..."

"Is she okay?"

"Dante and Siddiq stitched her up, but... she's been acting strange," Michonne answered. "She's at mine now, with Daryl and the kids."

Oliver nodded gratefully, his full mind racing. As they headed to Michonne's he asked, "So, how _did_ it go at the border with Alpha?"

Michonne gave him an uneasy sigh. "Too much to tell. I don't even know where to start."

Oliver frowned. "Did she know we crossed for the fire?"

Michonne nodded. "She knew about in the storm, too, and she claims that two of our people crossed just the other day, on horses."

Oliver's chest sank.

They were approaching the apartment now.

"It's three strikes," Michonne added, "so she's moving up the border as punishment."

"_No,_" Oliver complained, then cleared his throat. "And... the too much to tell? What was that?"

Michonne's face twisted up uncomfortably. "Carol took a shot at her."

"At Alpha?"

Michonne nodded. "Daryl was able to stop her, but... Alpha, she wanted Carol to... lower her eyes, but she refused."

"And then what happened?"

"Nothing," Michonne said. "She said that she forgave her, 'mother to mother'."

Oliver could have spat.

Michonne pointed to him. "Yeah, Carol had that look on her face, too..."

Oliver tried to relax.

Michonne sighed. "She thinks she saw some Whisperers, too, at our camp. But we didn't find any sign."

Oliver shook his head. He felt terrible.

"What?" Michonne asked.

"The second strike was my fault," he confessed.

The accusing, confused glare on Michonne's face gave Oliver the sudden urge to take off running. He took a deep breath to sway it.

"It was me and Enid," he said, "we crossed the border."

Michonne looked like she might burst into flames. Oliver's urge to bolt increased. He could barely look her in the eyes. Then just when he expected her explosion, Michonne simply said, "Come inside," before turning and storming off inside the apartment.

Along the street, Daryl was sitting on his own porch with a lit cigarette, having witnessed their exchange and looking like he didn't want to be involved if an argument was brewing.

Oliver sighed. "Hey, man."

Daryl grunted in reply. "You fucked up."

"Yeah."

Daryl watched him. "Glad you're back."

Oliver only partially agreed, so just shrugged.

"Negan give you any trouble?" Daryl added.

"No," Oliver said, and sighed, and since he had nothing else to say he waved and went inside. He avoided Michonne's eyes as she prepared dinner a little too loudly in the kitchen, clanging pans and utensils against the counter. Upstairs, Oliver went to the spare room where Carol was asleep. Her forearm was bandaged. Beside her was a dusty pill bottle, empty. Oliver remembered Douglas offering them for the first few nights at sea while Carol was still getting used to sleeping on a swaying boat. But that was only for a few nights. Oliver had no idea she was still taking them.

Suddenly there was a particularly loud bang from a pan downstairs and Carol roused. Oliver set the pill bottle down quickly, then sat on the edge of her bed. Carol rolled onto her side to look at him, taking in how exhausted he must've looked.

"I leave you for one day..." Oliver joked.

Carol sobbed a chuckle. A tear welled in her eye and fell down her cheek towards her ear. She looked like she was in pain but the type that medicine could only half help. Oliver forced away the sting behind his own eyes.

"Michonne said you cut yourself, at the school."

"Yeah, I fell."

Oliver bit his lip.

Carol frowned at him. "What is it?"

Oliver bit his thumbnail and took several long moments to find the right words, until finally he said, "You remember how I used to hurt myself, when I was a kid—"

"Oliver, I don't want to hear about this right now."

"I know. I know, I'm sorry," he said. "I just don't want you to start falling into that sort of thing, too. It only helps for a time and then... the hurting comes back, worse."

Carol took his hand to stop him from chewing his thumbnail.

"I fell," she insisted. "I was in the gymnasium, there was a snare, and it pulled me up-side down. The Whisperers were there, I cut myself down, and when I got up my arm was bleeding and they were gone. It was an accident."

Oliver swatted a tear and nodded, relieved.

Carol squeezed his hand. Her fingers were so cold.

"I'm still holding on," she whispered. "Trying to..."

Oliver smiled. Eventually he helped her sit up and waited while she tied back her hair. Together they walked downstairs. Oliver went to the couch. Beside him, RJ was reading a picture book. Judith was drawing at the table. Carol went and stood across from Michonne at the kitchen island.

"Sorry if I woke you," Michonne said, setting her spatula down softly with a guilty expression on her face. "How is it?"

"Hurts," Carol answered, touching her bandage. She sighed. "Being back here hurts, too. And that's her fault. You shouldn't have stopped me."

"There were seven of us out there," Michonne said. "I had to think of them."

"I know. But I did see them."

"You hadn't slept. You had all those pills."

Oliver could see Carol's ears reddening. She turned her head slightly to see if he was listening and he tried to look busy with reading RJ's book. She turned back to Michonne and said again, "I saw them..."

Michonne sighed. "Only you did."

Carol tapped her leg frustratedly on the floor and then left quickly to go back upstairs.

"Dinner will be ready soon," Michonne called out after her.

"Just leave it outside my door — thanks."

When Carol was gone, Michonne swore under her breath. Judith and RJ both turned to her in horror, and their mom apologised. She exchanged a glance with Oliver, then turned back to the stove. Judith and RJ were still giggling at their mother's language together.

"I'm going to go and shave," Oliver announced.

"What's that mean?" RJ asked, ordering his crayons into a neat, colour-coordinated row.

Oliver pointed to the thick wiry hair on his jaw. "Getting rid of this mess."

"Ooh!" Judith cried, bounding across the room to tangle her fingers into it all. "Can me and RJ help?"

"No," Oliver said.

"Can we watch?"

He sighed and cast them both a smile, then gestured his head towards the stairs. "Sì... come upstairs with me."

* * *

_Blowin' off my mom, I wanna go home  
I'd rather be alone, I don't wanna go home  
It's gettin' really late so I gotta go home  
Mom's blowin' up my phone so I gotta go home_

_I love my mom  
I hate my boyfriend  
Do you love my mom?  
Do you hate my boyfriend?  
But I love my mom_

_Empty home  
Empty, empty, empty home_

_I wanna be American  
My family is gone, but I don't care because I love 'em..._

* * *

**Notes**

Song was "Empty" by Kevin Abstract. Thought it was nice and angsty for this one and I thought it was appropriate to have the words "I love my mom, by I hate my boyfriend" somewhere in this shit show for reasons I can't quite put into words.

Heads up, since I rewrote all 4 previous books earlier this year, Oliver's only killed 9 people now and not over 20. If you want more details PM me and I can send you a list of the other changes :)

House scene was down-right plagiarised from issue 164 of the comics ngl lol but it was fun and weirdly fitting so I refuse any judgement.

Some more Quan in the next one ;)

As always,  
Happy reading.


	17. Silence the Whisperers

**Dampish **Cannot express my adoration for you. You are a good man.

**fandomismylife **It's weird isn't it. We've basically grown up with Oliver. I was only a few years older than him when I started this fic, and now we're both adults, and so is the same for a lot of the people reading this. I'm glad I've had this experience. And no pressure to write anything. You've supported me enough already!

**wonderbitch26 **I'm sure there's a backstory as to how Negan knows what a twink is but I'll leave that to you to conjure up lmao.

* * *

Song is "Ivy" by Frank Ocean.

* * *

_I thought that I was dreaming when you said you love me  
The start of nothing  
I had no chance to prepare  
I couldn't see you coming  
The start of nothing  
I could hate you now  
It's quite alright to hate me now  
When we both know that deep down  
The feeling still deep down is good..._

* * *

"Stop! You're dead."

Oliver, now hypothetically deceased, stood frozen and on display with his amp-arm up in defence across Quan's chest and his free hand stretched towards his hip for his combat knife. Quan, having already drawn his blade, had it pointed at Oliver's stomach. Other trainees spread out around them on the grass verge by the solar panels, tangled in their own frozen practice fights.

"Your eyes were on the ground," Aaron scolded.

_Well, I don't like looking at his face,_ Oliver thought, gritting his teeth.

"Track from head to hands, always," Aaron told him, and then, when Oliver nodded begrudgingly, turned to the rest of the class. "Lose focus, and you will get killed. Remember, these people took our friends. They took our land. They must be stopped — go again."

They poised. Oliver took a faux swipe. Quan dodged to the side, then jutted out his arm and caught Oliver across the shoulder-blades. He staggered to his hand and knees, too slow to stop Quan from grabbing him from behind and yanking him up against his chest, knife pointed to throat. Oliver struggled, but Quan had a grip on him.

"Can we talk?" he asked.

"_No,_" Oliver retorted, pulling himself free.

"Go again!" Aaron yelled.

Quan charged. Oliver twisted away from him, jutting out a leg and causing Quan to trip and land on his back, knife flying. He attempted to scramble for it but Oliver kicked it aside, pushed him down, and held his own knife against Quan's abdomen, touching him there with his fingers as not to accidentally stab him. His vest had ridden up. The dark skin there was hot and damp. Oliver had to stand up and turn away, blinking. This was a mistake — in a split second Quan had swiped out a leg and knocked Oliver to the dirt, winding him. He attempted to snatch for his knife but Quan snatched it, pinned him down between his knees, and put the knife to Oliver's ribcage. The cold of the blade shocked him.

"Got you," Quan said, bend over him and grinning.

Oliver could smell his sweat and aftershave.

"Get off me," he said, too softly, so he said it again in a hiss. "Get off me, man!" He pushed Quan away and stood up, brushing dirt and dust off his clothes. Tutting, he added, "You were already dead."

Quan rolled his eyes, snickering, then winked. Oliver crossed his arms, face hot and checking everyone else was still practice-fighting. He didn't know what was wrong with him today. He couldn't focus on anything. It was Quan's fault. It was confusing to hate him. It was even more confusing to be so attracted to him at the same time. Oliver didn't know if he wanted more to stab him or undress him, but he knew, at least, that he wanted to do one of them with vigour.

He tried to think of other things, like Enid practice-fighting Nora a few yards away. She wasn't speaking to him at all after she found out he had ratted on them crossing the border together. Oliver hated falling out with her. It always felt like the end of the world or worse. Lost of things felt like that lately. The last thing Oliver wanted to deal with right now was melee training with Quan.

"Hey, Lydia!" Gage called out, abandoning his training to pull a sack on over his head. "You think Mommy will take me in?"

Lydia, who'd been passing by, stopped to glare at him.

"Oh, right, no," Gage went on, "she kicked your ass out — now you're just a freak."

Alfred and Margo sneered by his side.

"Get the hell out of here," Margo growled at her.

Lydia rushed away, looking small. Enid went after her, pushing Gage aside as he took off his sack. He snorted and gave Alfred a high-five. They didn't notice Oliver approaching until Gage received a sharp smack across the back of the head. He cried out, clutching his skull, shaggy mouse-brown hair in his face. Oliver snatched the sack out of his hands and threw it aside.

"_Grow up._"

Gage scowled up at him.

"What the hell?" Margo barked.

"You saw what her mother did to our friends," Alfred chimed in, "to your brother."

"Yeah," Oliver told them. "What her _mother_ did..."

"Hey!" Aaron yelled, eyes switching between Gage and Oliver to Lydia and Enid walking away. "Up here. Let's run it again."

They four of them returned to their training partners. Nora partnered with Aaron in Enid's absence. Without speaking to one another, Oliver and Quan got on with training. Enid came back after a while. She didn't look at Oliver, or Gage and his friends. It was a long last hour of practice. Oliver was wound up out of his mind when it was finally over. Enid didn't wait for him, so his walk back to Michonne's apartment was lonely until Lydia caught up with him along the Brownstone street.

"Hey, uh..." she said, out of breath. "I saw what you did back there."

Oliver turned to her, his mind still caught up over Quan and other things. "Oh. Err?"

Lydia hugged herself, forcing a smile. "And — I wanted to say... thanks. Thank you."

Oliver nodded politely. He noticed Henry's old staff on her shoulder. Lydia had added a nunchuck to it. Oliver's thoughts slowed down then, like a miserable, rusting cog. The loss of Henry still ached. He wondered if it did for Lydia, too, and thought back to what Enid had said, that Lydia had tried to kill herself, and that she deserved to have some help right now. He wanted to say something wise, something kind, but the words, "Bullies suck," sounded far lamer outside of his head than in.

Lydia smiled a little wider anyway.

"Enid says I should ignore them, take the higher ground," she said, shrugging. "Negan says I should kill them with kindness."

"Negan told you that?"

"Yeah... he's my friend."

_I think he's mine, too,_ Oliver almost said, but didn't in fear of Glenn, Abraham, Sasha, Denise, and many others turning in their graves. Not Carl, though. If Heaven or the afterlife existed at all, Carl was up there having a humble celebration.

"They're just grieving for their friends," he said instead, shaking his head slightly.

Lydia kicked the ground, sulking. "It doesn't mean they should take it out on me."

"No," he agreed. "I guess they're just scared."

"Of what?"

"Of... I don't know," he lied, not wanting to say, _'__O__f__ you __being__ one of them...'_ but Lydia seemed to see right through him because she glared, standing square and balling her fists, like she was suddenly some statue filled with fury or pride or both.

"I'll never walk with my mother," she growled.

Oliver nodded. "We know that."

"Gage and his friends don't, clearly. I mean, what am I supposed to do to prove myself to them?"

"It's not about that," Oliver explained. "It's not about showing them kindness in hopes they'll end up liking you. That won't do shit, trust me. And taking the high ground is just another way of letting them win."

Lydia sighed.

"Look," Oliver added, "all they want is for you to feel sorry, for you to feel as bad as your mom made them feel."

"I'm not apologising for something she—"

"I'm not saying that," Oliver interrupted, and waited a moment for Lydia to stop steaming at the ears. "I'm saying... if they want a response from you, a response that won't change anything anyway, you might as well give them a response they aren't expecting..."

* * *

It didn't take Oliver long to regret his advice — later at lunch in the main hall, while he was volunteering at the wash-station, Lydia brought a dead squirrel in with her. She sat at Gage, Margo, and Alfred's bench and gutted it in front of them.

Oliver only realised what was going on when he heard Gage cry out, "Oh my God, what is wrong with you!" and looked up to see him wiping squirrel blood of his face.

"Oh, merda," Oliver muttered, dropping his sponge.

"You're crazy!" Gage howled, standing up now.

Lydia continued her slaughter, ignoring them. Alfred and Margo stood up, too, muttering their disgust together, and then the worse of it happened: Lydia turned her head, smiled at them, and raised a bloody finger to her lips.

"Shh..."

Gage and his friends rushed off. Oliver stared at Lydia in both awe and horror before Daryl grabbed her by the arm and swept her out of the hall. Oliver went back to work at the sink, beginning to sweat. He knew it wouldn't be long before — Daryl came back, storming through the mess hall to him.

"What the hell d'you go and tell her to do a thing like that for?!" he shouted.

Oliver backed up against the wash bowl, splashing suds. He cringed. "It was stupid. I didn't think she would—"

"Yeah, you didn't think!"

Oliver shook his head in total agreement, reminded of Henry. He shut his eyes, then opened them and asked, "Is Lydia okay?"

"Course she's okay," Daryl growled, "with the fire you lit under her ass! Damn miracle she didn't hang dead snakes over their beds!"

"I'm sorry. I fucked up."

"Hmpf. Keeps happening with you lately."

Oliver dipped his head in shame. The room was silent. Everyone in the kitchen area and the few still finishing their food out in the hall were watching and listening to them. Daryl seemed to calm down. His shoulders relaxed and he sighed, and then, suddenly, Michonne burst into the hall.

"Daryl," she said sharply. "Something's happened at Hilltop. Gather all the council members. Enid, too. Oliver, clear everyone out of the hall and set up the tables for the meeting."

They were ready in minutes. While a few dishwashers were finishing up, the council and Enid gathered around a long, U-shaped table to discuss. Oliver stood back by the door and listened because nobody had told him to leave.

"Why am I here?" Enid asked.

"I just got off the radio with Ezekiel," Michonne said to all of them. "A tree fell, crushed part of the wall at Hilltop. By the trailers. Nine people were injured, including Ms. Watts, the medic. They don't have anyone else who knows how to treat these kinds of injuries without help, so..."

She looked at Enid.

Enid's eyes widened and she began shaking her head. "No. Not me. Send Siddiq."

"I can't go," he said. "I have to stay here, at my post, as well as take care of Coco. There's—"

"Then Dante!"

"As much as I would _love_ to get a break from him," Siddiq said, "Dante and I need to stay here. Like I was about to say, there's a stomach bug going around, and a pregnant mother due any day now. You've got no experience with pregnancies."

Enid crossed her arms, scowling.

Siddiq's eyebrows rose. "But you _are_ trained for wounds."

"I can second that," Aaron said, raising his now de-maced prosthetic hand.

Enid looked like she wanted to hit him but sank back in her chair instead, nodding.

"Now that's settled," Michonne said, "you should know, too, Enid, that although the infirmary wasn't damaged by the tree, it won't be big enough for everyone injured at Hilltop, so they're using Maggie's old office and some of the other trailers to help fit everyone."

"Yeah. Okay." Enid sighed miserably. "I've got it."

Michonne nodded. "Thank you."

"Do you think the tree fell because of the Whisperers?" Nora asked.

"Of course it did," Kyle said.

"They already cut off our hunting grounds," Enid grumbled, still with her arms tightly crossed. "All for what? Because we crossed their border to put out a forest fire?"

"Among other times," Michonne grumbled under her breath.

Enid gritted her teeth. Her eyes flashed at Oliver accusingly and he looked down at his feet quick enough to get a crick in his neck.

"We're taking a convoy," Michonne said. "Oliver, I'd like you to help the stable hands in getting four carriage horses and my horse ready. One for yourself, too, if you don't want to drive."

Oliver hadn't been spoken to the whole meeting so he looked up with a start, clasping his neck. "I'm coming with?"

"I'd like you to. Does that work for you?"

He nodded, and when Michonne glanced to the door, without hesitating, he left through it to get started. He swore he heard Enid mutter sarcastically, "Great," as he shut the hall door behind himself.

* * *

It took a few hours for Michonne to gather a convoy of volunteers, so, with time to spare after saddling and harnessing, Oliver went to pack his things and say goodbye to Judith, RJ, and Carol at the Brownstone apartment. Carol hadn't yet emerged from her room except to talk with Daryl briefly. Oliver didn't say a lot to her. There wasn't anything of use to say other than where he was going and why. Half of him was expecting her to beg him to come back to the ocean with her, but she told him she would see him when he was back and he told her to heal quickly and to be kind to herself. It was like all those months ago when they first sailed out across the ocean. Oliver would catch her sinking into her thoughts and she would catch him, too, sinking into his own. He thought they'd started to heal, together, but now he wasn't so sure.

He left the apartment and went a few doors down to Daryl and Lydia's place. On their front door, someone had spray painted the words, _'SILENCE THE WHISPERERS'_. Oliver took a steep breath, ignoring the familiar, nasty, prickle of adrenaline, and knocked. Dog barked. Daryl called out from inside to come in. Oliver followed Dog's lead and found Daryl in the garage, fixing up his motorbike.

"I'm headed to Hilltop with Michonne's convoy," Oliver said. "Just came to say goodbye to you guys."

Daryl grunted a nod, then pointed to the ceiling. "Lydia's sulkin' in her room. Enid came by to talk to her."

Oliver looked up, listening, wondering if she was still up there. He decided not to ask. Although, he couldn't think of any other small talk either. He knew he should probably apologise again for what happened earlier but guessed, too, that Daryl wasn't interested in that, so Oliver decided to just come out with what he really came over for.

"Listen," he said finally. "I think Carol's okay, but... there's about ten — no, fifteen percent of me that thinks she's going to try something with Alpha while I'm away."

"Then why you leaving?" Daryl asked, scratching between Dog's ears.

"Because I have to help Hilltop," Oliver answered, and shrugged. "And you and I both know, she'll do what she wants, whether I'm here or not."

"Then why you telling me?"

"Because you're her friend, _and mine_," Oliver said, watching his eyes. He didn't usually spend a lot of time looking into Daryl's face, let alone his eyes. Daryl always kept them shrouded under layers of unkempt hair. But he looked into them now and Daryl looked back. He smiled. He was a gentle man, really, despite himself. Oliver guessed they were both similar like that: they looked more frightening than they felt, only Daryl was better at remembering it. Oliver smiled back, shrugged, and said, "She listens to you more than she listens to me."

Daryl snorted. "She never listens to me. Like you say, woman does what she wants."

Oliver raised his eyebrows, then nodded. "Okay. Thanks anyway. Later, Daryl. I'll see you."

As he made to leave, Daryl grunted something.

"What?" Oliver asked, turning back.

Daryl gnawed his thumbnail.

With another, clearer grunt, he said, "I'll keep an eye on her. Don't worry."

Oliver nodded gratefully, then left.

* * *

Oliver passed Michonne's Brownstone apartment again on his way to the gates. He didn't expect to feel the need to say goodbye to Negan, but there the feeling was as he walked past. He backed up. Inches above the ground, through the small dirty window, Negan's figure moved away into the dimness. Oliver sighed, then headed for the basement door. Brandon, on guard, stepped in his way.

"Could you let me in?" Oliver asked flatly. "I need to speak with him."

"He's not interested."

"He's... 'not interested'?"

"Yeah. Not in some flower like you," Brandon said, and leaned close to whisper the next part: "Maybe you haven't figured this out already, but... _s__ome flowers are weeds._"

Oliver shook his head, amazed. He'd have laughed at Brandon's audacity had he not been furious. His lip twitched. As Brandon opened his mouth to say something else, Oliver grabbed him by the collar and pushed him hard against the door, causing the back of Brandon's head to smack the frame. He yelped and crumpled to the ground, clutching his skull. Oliver crouched in front of him and snatched him by the throat, tight enough Brandon gagged.

"_Do your __fucking__ job, Brandon,_" Oliver growled in his face.

With a choked grumble, Brandon pushed the keys into Oliver's chest and Oliver let him go. Brandon collapsed to his hands and knees, spluttering and looking murderous. Oliver waited for him to try something, but he didn't, so he went inside the basement and slammed the door behind himself. Downstairs, Negan watched him approach with a surprised-amused grin on his face, having heard the commotion upstairs.

Oliver rolled his eyes.

"I came to... err..."

"To what?" Negan asked in Oliver's uncomfortable pause. "To threaten my former employee now prison guard, just so you could make sure to say goodbye to me this time? I am... _moved,_ Oliver. Truly."

"How did you know I was leaving?"

"I've come to learn that this room is like a massive hearing aid," Negan answered. "There's not a lot I can't pick up on around here, if I listen carefully enough. I know about the tree falling at Hilltop, too. And I know that someone, I won't say who, has a nasty rash in a very unfortunate place."

Oliver didn't want to know.

Negan smiled, then called out suddenly, "Speaking of flowers and weeds! Brandon! Ain't it about time for me to do my garden duties?" and as Brandon could be heard opening the basement door, Negan winked at Oliver, who frowned back.

"It is," Brandon answered, coming downstairs. He threw a pair of handcuffs through the bars and Negan applied them to his wrists. Brandon then snatched the keys from Oliver, who was still standing there a little dumbstruck, and unlocked the cell. "Come on out."

"Sure thing."

"Bye, Negan," Oliver mumbled, ascending the stairs and leaving the basement.

"See you again, de Luca," Negan called out after him. "Come by anytime. Ain't like I'm going anywhere."

"And why would I want to do that?" Oliver asked, stopping at the edge of the street to glanced back and watch them emerge from the basement and into daylight.

"Why?" Negan asked, squinting. "Because I miss chatting with you, Oliver. You are a _barrel_ o' laughs!"

Oliver shook his head, regretting having even asked, and walked away hearing Negan chuckle to himself as he and Brandon went in the opposite direction.

* * *

A quarter-hour later, Oliver and the sweet mare, Traveller, left with Michonne and the two-carriage convoy towards Hilltop. Each carriage, one driven by Enid and the other by Eugene, carried four volunteers, Judith among them. Quan, too, was there, and Oliver took great pleasure in ignoring him entirely.

It was a clear sunny day, they were rested, well fed, and the sound of their surroundings with no walkers in it was like music. Still, Michonne was frowning. Judith noticed, too, and offered her pair of 'friendly ears' to which Michonne mused with a small discussion on Alpha's bullying tactics. She was confused as to why after the trespassing and Carol taking a shot, the only thing Alpha took was land. No horde, and no massacre. Judith suspected their rules were changing, that Alpha was trying to tire them out to get the upper hand, the same way herself and Michonne tired RJ out to get him to go to bed.

Michonne squinted down at her. "That is not bad, kiddo."

"I knew RJ would eventually be good for something."

They chuckled together.

"So, am I right?" Judith asked. "Is that the kind of bully they are?"

Michonne gave her one of her surveying looks.

"You're thinking on it," Judith said.

And they rode on quietly all day and night, and grew close to Hilltop a few hours before sunrise. At some point Michonne claimed to see the King riding through the trees ahead, and told the others to go on without her while she went off to find him. A few minutes after separating, however, Oliver and the other carriages found Ezekiel's stallion, a jet black Rocky Mountainer named Toby, walking with an empty saddle along the road. Quan hopped out of the carriage and jogged ahead to retrieve him, while the others muttered questions about where Ezekiel and Michonne were.

"Get to Hilltop," Oliver told everyone, "I'll go and look for them."

All of them, Enid especially, began to argue, and Oliver would have argued back had Michonne and Ezekiel not emerged from the woods unscathed, claiming they were fine and that Ezekiel had left Toby untethered on accident. Oliver didn't buy it. Ezekiel eyes were puffy. Michonne, leading her horse, cleared her throat.

"We should get going," she said, mounting up. "There's no time to lose."

And she was right. When they arrived, a large horde of walkers were breaching the hole in Hilltop's wall created by the fallen tree. Everyone dismounted their horses or climbed from their carriages to jump into defending the place. Even Judith helped take down a few of the dead before Michonne found a moment to order her inside to safety.

"Yo! We got all our peeps!" Jerry shouted. "Close the gates! Come on!"

The last of them stumbled inside.

The gates were shut behind them.

"Defend the breach!"

It took the rest of the night. Oliver felt stuck in time, back to Alexandria a few days ago, and back to the night Carl lost his eye, and even the night the prison fence came down. It always came back to this part: Fighting the dead.

And finally.

Miraculously.

Hours and hours later...

It was over.

Soaked in blood and exhausted, with the sun high above the horizon, Oliver collapsed on Barrington House's porch, too exhausted to make it to the rocking chair. Yumiko landed beside him while Magna managed to make it to the rocking chair, which hit the wall as she slumped into it. Connie and Kelly sat on the steps and held each other, Enid knelt several feet away, head in her arms, and Luke collapsed by Oliver's side and slung an arm across his shoulders.

"You guys came just in time. _Sheesh!_ What a relief," Luke sighed loudly while Oliver panted his agreement. Luke knocked their sweaty foreheads. "I could kiss you, man, really."

"Oddio," Oliver replied, and caught the sound of himself giggling too late to try and stop.

"I could kiss you, too," Yumiko said, gulping breaths. "Come here." She flailed across Oliver's lap and kissed him once on each cheek, which, to him, felt like a very European thing to do. It made him laugh even harder, especially when Connie, too, rolled over from her grinning sister and snuggled in around his chest, making the first noise Oliver had ever heard from her — a very faint, low, doting hum. At some point amongst all this, Luke really did kiss him, loudly and clumsily between Oliver's eyebrows.

His cheeks were burning.

Having witnessed all this, Michonne smiled at them all as she walked by and went inside. Enid was watching them, too, with a faint smile on her face which vanished the second she noticed Oliver look her way.

Finally, Oliver managed to clamber out from under Yumiko, Connie, and Luke's cuddling. He was sore from all the fighting and tired after the long night, so he went looking for somewhere he could wash and sleep. He spotted Quan and Papa Bear heading off to the trailers, clasping each other tightly. Since most of Kingdom were still in tents, Oliver didn't know why he was expecting to get his old room back. Someone was occupying it. Oliver apologised for bothering them and left to find a Hilltop council member — Ezekiel, Yumiko, Jerry, or Earl. He found Jerry first who immediately invited Oliver to stay with his family. They had the largest tent of everyone, considering there were five of them, not including—

"Scab!"

"Yeah, man," Jerry said, lugging the ugly, fat, sick-coloured cat into Oliver's arms. "Best guard-cat we could ask for."

"Really?"

"Oh yeah," Nabila said. "She loves the kids. Let's Ezra and Aliyah dress her up and play with her and everything."

Oliver double took, wondering if they had the wrong cat. But it was indeed Scab, matted and smelly and missing a few claws, the world's former grumpiest cat now turned softie for children, as proven when Ezra scooped her out of Oliver's arms and waddled her huge form against his own small one to his sleeping bag, where he plopped her down and rubbed her tummy. She gazed up at him dewily, like he was one of her own, oversized, late kittens.

"She thinks she's a mom again," Oliver murmured.

"What?" Nabila asked.

"Nothing. Thank you. Are you sure you've got the room for me?"

"Of course!" she said.

Jerry grinned. "But no grass, unless..."

Nabila glared at him. Jerry pulled an apologetic face, raising his hands in joking surrender. Oliver pursed his lips innocently until Nabila walked away to tend to their baby girl, Mariam, who had begun to fuss.

"Anyway," Jerry said, beaming. "I'm sure we've got a spare sleeping bag lying around, and someone somewhere can give up their spare pillow."

Ezra and Aliyah moaned their complaints.

"I can live without a pillow," Oliver bargained.

"Don't sweat," Jerry told him. "I'll persuade them."

Oliver grinned. "Grazie mille."

He found a bucket of water, soap, and a private place to wash under the sun, then changed into a clean set of clothes. As he headed back to Jerry's tent, Enid caught him on his way. Oliver wondered why she wasn't with her patients, and opened his mouth to ask.

"Michonne's asked to speak to us," she said, like she could read his mind, then turned on her heel. "Help me gather the others for a meeting."

* * *

_If I could see through walls, I could see you're faking  
If you could see my thoughts, you would see our faces  
Safe in my rental like an armoured truck back then  
We didn't give a fuck back then  
I ain't a kid no more  
We'll never be those kids again_

_No matter what I did  
My waves wouldn't dip back then  
Everything sucked back then  
We were friends..._

* * *

**Notes**

Been a while. Easy to guess why. Keep on protesting, signing petitions, and having those awkward conversations with people who don't understand yet, even if that means you have to educate yourself first. It can't go on like this.

As always,  
Happy reading.


	18. What it Always Is

**fandomismylife **Thanks for the kind words. Glad you enjoyed the chapter!

**dampish **I will, I will! He is an amazing artist. Yeah, this is kinda like that, filler, but this is the last filler chapter for a while, so I hope it'll be worth the wait for some real plot progression. Yeah, Enid is just angry and grieving. She has never really coped with loss well, as far as I've ever seen from her in the show, so it seemed fitting to me to make her isolate herself this time from the people still left in her life, made worse because Oliver left to fish for months without her, as well as ratted on her. She probably just feels very left behind at this point. I imagine she's been kinda off with Earl, Aaron, and Adam, too, tbh.

* * *

_**Thank you, fandomismylife, for proofreading, and for generally understanding the English language far better than **__**m**__**e**__**.**_

* * *

While Hilltop settled for bed, Oliver, Enid, Luke, Dianne, Yumiko, Marco, and Eugene gathered in Yumiko's room upstairs. Michonne was standing on the inglenook before the fireplace, her arms crossed.

"I wont keep you long. I know you're all busy. But I wanted to let you all know that the Alexandria Council is in a meeting right now — I was on the radio with Daryl, earlier. Something happened at Alexandria. Margo's dead."

She explained two stories. The first from Lydia: Gage, Margo, and Alfred attacked her. Negan showed up, rescued her, but in the struggle cracked Margo's head open against the wall. The second story, from Gage and Alfred, was that Lydia and Negan had ambushed them. Brandon, the only witness, backed up Lydia's story, but despite this, people at Alexandria were asking to hang Negan.

"Alexandria's council are taking a vote," Michonne finished.

Oliver felt ill. Was all of this his fault for convincing Lydia to mess with them? Had she taken it too far? If she hadn't, and this was Gage's doing, it had still ended up getting Margo killed. Was Negan going to swing for it? For so long Oliver wished Negan was dead, and now that it might happen, it was like suddenly realising he had chosen the wrong turn at a crossroad. He caught Enid scowling at him, jumped, and relaxed his face. She watched him, then looked at Michonne.

"Should we head there?" Yumiko asked her.

"A few of you can," Michonne answered, "if you want to. But Hilltop still needs us... and Oceanside. There's been an incident — Rachel and Thur spotted a Whisperer watching them."

A nasty adrenaline rush seemed to bristle between everyone in the room.

"Rachel and Thur — they're sure it was them?" Enid asked.

"I'm taking over a convoy of volunteers to see." Michonne rubbed her neck. "It might be nothing, but in case it is one of them, you know as well as I do, they move as a pack."

"Where there's one, there's a hundred more," Eugene said, "like the order of Blattodea."

"Ah, the illustrious cock-a-roach family," Luke said.

Eugene cocked an eyebrow at him. Luke winked.

Everyone discussed the possibility of another attack. What with the waves at Alexandria, the tree at Hilltop, and now the sighting at Oceanside, Michonne was starting to agree with Enid that it all seemed less and less likely to be a series of unlucky coincidences. Luke volunteered to join her, claiming the ocean was calling to him, which really meant he wanted to see Jules, an Oceansider who he was interested in.

"Count me in, too," Dianne said.

"Thank you," Michonne said, and asked Eugene if he wanted to return with a wagon to Alexandria in the morning, but he wanted to stay put, droning on in his alien talk about something involving the satellite and the fallen tree. Michonne summed up for him: "You want to fix the wall."

"Yes."

"Fine. I'll bring back supplies from Oceanside so you can do it faster."

"I can go to Alexandria," Oliver offered, reaching for excuses, "err, see how Lydia's doing, you know? And... someone's gotta take Judith home."

"Oh, Judith? She's coming with me."

Oliver's face fell. Michonne noticed, but before she said anything, the door jolted suddenly and everyone turned to see Judith stagger inside the bedroom onto her hands and knees. She jumped to her feet, straightened her Stetson hat, then katana sheath. An empty glass was in her hand. Marco snickered, but stopped at the stern look on Michonne's face.

"Judith..." she said. "What have we talked about?"

Judith pouted down at the glass in her hands, tutting. "No snooping..."

Michonne twisted her mouth in a poor attempt to hide her grin.

"So, I'm coming with you to Oceanside?" Judith asked.

"Well, yeah," Michonne said. "Who else is gonna be my pair of friendly ears?"

Judith stood fizzing out of her skin.

Michonne dismissed everyone, and as they all disbanded into the landing, Oliver tried to push the nasty, miserable feeling in his stomach away, but the image of Negan dangling at the end of a noose made him wince. He cornered Enid on her way towards the stairs, desperate for something to take the weight off, and even more desperate for her not to hate him anymore.

"How's it going with your patients?" he asked.

"Fine," she said, fidgeting awkwardly with her sleeve. "I... shouldn't be away for too long."

"Well, do you need any help? I can offer a hand—" He raised his amp arm and smiled hopefully. "—just one though."

Without even a nod, Enid said, "I'm good," and walked away into the office. She shut the door behind herself. Oliver's arm dropped and his smile faded. He choked, but didn't know why. He'd have thought he was drowning if he didn't know any better. Luke, coming downstairs behind him, made a sympathetic hiss as he patted Oliver on the shoulder.

"Well, _I_ thought it was a good joke."

"Thanks," Oliver told him, forcing the thickness from his voice.

"Fighting with friends blows," Luke said.

Oliver could barely nod. He was at a loss. One minute Enid wanted him around, then the next, when he was, she gave him the cold shoulder. Luke gave him a sorry look and placed an arm across his shoulders. He was short, so Oliver had to bend slightly, but it still felt comforting. He hoped his repressed silence didn't make it seem like Luke meant less to him than he really did.

"You're not my lawyer anymore!"

Oliver and Luke both looked up across the foyer to the top of the staircase where Yumiko and Magna were sitting together — the latter, it seemed, had just ended their argument. As Magna stormed away downstairs, Yumiko buried her face in her hands and began to cry.

Luke patted Oliver's shoulder once more, then left to comfort her.

* * *

Oliver slept restlessly. He kept getting nightmares, but forgot them by the time he woke up, and would lie there under the dewy tent canopy, wiping his eyes dry and listening to Jerry and his family turn occasionally in their sleeping bags until he fell asleep again. Eventually, after enough nightmares, he was done feeling sorry for himself and got up. The sun was rising. The clouds were pale grey and gold. Hilltop was still asleep, except for the overnight guards waiting for their shifts to end. Oliver went to the stables to prepare some horses and mules for Michonne's convoy to Oceanside. This was amusing to Oscar, who, a few hours later, arrived in time to see Oliver half way through morning chores. He asked, jokingly, if Oliver was trying to get his old job back, but Oliver assured him he was just filling time. To prove it, he left Oscar and the other stable hands to the rest of their morning chores.

He headed back to Jerry's tent and saw Quan watching him from the distillery, but turned a cold shoulder.

When it was time for the convoy to Oceanside to leave, Michonne pulled Oliver aside.

"Hey," she said, "I forgot to thank you in the meeting, for offering to go and check on Lydia. You still can, if you want to. You and Daryl could help her to not feel so alone."

Oliver winced twice, first because he'd only used Lydia as an excuse to see Negan again, then secondly because Lydia's welfare was an odd thing for Michonne to be concerned about.

Michonne seemed to sense his suspicion. "Look," she said quietly, checking those loading the carriages weren't eavesdropping, "Alpha's had so many excuses. I think... I think it's not about changing their rules, or tiring us out... but Lydia. I think _she__'s_ the only thing stopping her mom from really coming for us."

It was a terrifying thought, but Oliver still scratched his head. "I don't know. All I've done is make things worse for Lydia."

"You don't have to go, if you've changed your mind," Michonne said mercifully. "I know this is difficult for you... I know you care about him."

Oliver frowned. "Who?"

"You know who."

Oliver wanted to deny it, but couldn't. He looked at the ground, ashamed.

"Can't stand to see him swing," Michonne predicted in her low, gravelly voice, crossing her arms, "can't stand to see him walk, either."

Oliver looked at her, searching for disappointment in her face.

He asked, "Is it wrong to want him to live?"

Michonne thought about it.

She said, "If it helps, Carl would be proud of you."

Oliver snorted. He had to wipe his eyes, suddenly. He must've been losing it. His emotions were all over the place lately. It'd felt like he'd been living on the brink of bursting into tears for months, since the barn. It was like his mind had been caught and strangled there, and ever since he'd just been making a concerted effort to ignore it.

"Don't worry about Lydia," Michonne told him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Daryl is looking after her, for all of us. Just, please, keep what I said about her between us for now."

Oliver nodded.

Luke came along, groaning in his way as he wrenched Oliver into a tight hug, then Luke went to Connie, Kelly, Yumiko, and Magna, who he held one at a time. Even though Oliver knew little sign language, he still understood enough to know that Luke signed to the four of them, "I will miss you all so much." He put his hands together and said, "Namaste," to everyone else and then climbed into his carriage, blowing kisses to all as Michonne drove her carriage from the courtyard and out along the driveway. Oliver waved to Judith, sitting in the back of the carriage, until she and it had disappeared beyond the cornstalks.

There was a moment of peace and quiet, then—

Ezekiel rushed from the house.

"I just got off the radio with Alexandria. It's Negan. He's gone!"

* * *

As well as Negan, Brandon was missing, too. Everyone knew he must've let Negan out. Not even Quan tried to defend him. He seemed devastated, honestly, but Oliver paid little attention to that. In fact, he paid little attention to anything stressful over the next several days. He left Enid to her sulking, he avoided wondering how Lydia and Daryl were getting on at Alexandria, and he didn't even bother to help the search parties for Negan and Brandon. Instead he spent all his time helping Eugene's crew rebuilt the breach. It was a hard and tedious job but it kept his mind busy either building, protecting the breach, or going out every morning to pile the walker bodies away from Hilltop where they could burn all day until the fire burnt itself out, smoke and all, before dark.

It felt good to work and not think.

On one hot, late-July afternoon, Oliver had spent half his morning body blazing and the other half dissecting the last few remains of the fallen tree. The breach was almost fixed, and people were debating over what to do with the spare logs and shavings. Eugene was coming up with a zero-waste plan, wanting to use every inch of the tree, even the bark.

"Seems as good a time as any to master the Pueblo art of basket weaving," he said.

Yumiko, who wasn't yet accustomed to Eugene's cosmic language, nodded blankly, then helped Oliver fill some buckets with twigs.

"Hey..." Enid said. "Can I talk to you a minute?"

Oliver turned instantly, but to his disappointment Enid, who'd just left the house, moved around him and took Yumiko's wrist instead.

"Earl and I were talking," she told her. "Instead of using the extra wood for baskets, what if we made some weapons? You know, big ones, defensive... couple of catapults for the north wall?"

"Yeah," Yumiko said, "no, look, I think it's a good idea — honestly, just not right now, what with half the Kingdom still in tents."

Oliver saw the tolerance drain from Enid's face. A vein in her temple pulsed.

"We have to at least _act_ like we're trying to fight them..." she hissed. Earl came over from the blacksmithery and took her shoulder but Enid shook him off. "No! The Whisperers smashed a giant hole in our wall! They've—"

"We don't know it was them for sure."

"So, what, we're just gonna sit here _waiting_?"

Earl put his hand on Enid's shoulder again and this time she let him.

"I know, hon," he told her gently.

Enid seemed to calm down. She left for the infirmary. Earl, too, left for the blacksmithery. Yumiko looked unhappy, but left when Brianna called her over to the courtyard. Oliver got on with work. Dog arrived at some point, tongue rolling, panting, and demanding attention. Daryl came along a few minutes later. Sitting on the back-seat of his motorbike, to Oliver's surprise, was Dante. Daryl had been among the search parties. Oliver had no idea why Dante was with him. He went over, returning Dog, who'd left a big muddy paw-print on his shirt. He gave Dante a quick downward nod, then Daryl an upward one, which he returned.

"How's Carol?"

"Alright," Daryl answered, "her arm's fine."

He reached out a hand. Oliver took it and squeezed. Daryl squeezed back, then went off to park his bike. Oliver went back to loading a wheelbarrow with logs. He realised too late that Dante was behind him. He grabbed Oliver by the shoulders, much heavier than Oliver was comfortable with. He shuffled out from his grip, forcing an uncomfortable laugh.

"Oh, come on!" Dante cried. "You can hold Daryl's hand but you won't give me a little piggy-back?"

"I thought you had to stay at Alexandria," Oliver said.

"Nah..." Dante beamed a toothy grin, standing too close. "Mrs. Preggo had her baby, Siddiq said he could handle things, _so_ I've been sent here to help Enid with the folks recovering from the tree fall. Looks like it did a number on this place."

"It did."

Oliver backed up when Dante's chest bumped him. He almost tripped over a pile of sticks. He was forgetting his own size again, like he sometimes did, and he had to remind himself that he and Dante were almost the same height. Albeit, Dante was broader, but not so much that Oliver needed to feel intimidated enough not to step back and reclaim his personal space.

"Hey," Dante said, not seeming to take any notice as he took another step forward, "at least it means I can get to know some of you folks a little better. Especially you!"

Oliver didn't know whether to take Dante seriously or not, so he just nodded, stepped back again, and said, "Okay," as convincingly as possible. "Err... well, Enid's, err, gone to the infirmary."

"Which way's that again?"

Oliver pointed to the trailers. Dante turned, winked at him, then left. Oliver blew air through his cheeks, shook his head, and tossed another log into a bucket.

* * *

By sunset, Oliver's lousy leg was bad enough that Yumiko told him to visit the infirmary. He couldn't pretend not to go because she went with him to get something for her own brewing migraine. Enid wasn't inside, but Dante was. He offered to help but both Oliver and Yumiko were quick to make up an excuse and search for Enid instead. Maggie's old office smelled of disinfectant, as opposed to the usual ancient varnish and dust. Several people were resting in make-shift beds with various body parts wrapped in bandages. Enid was deep in conversation with Ezekiel, but stopped when she saw Oliver and Yumiko.

"Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt," Yumiko said.

"Not at all," Ezekiel said, smiling, "I'm just leaving."

Enid watched him leave, then listened to Yumiko explain what was wrong. Finally, Enid pushed a pot of anti-inflammatory cream into Oliver's hand and left him to apply it, then, more kindly, gave Yumiko some pills for her migraine and a cooling pad to put on her forehead.

"Know what brought it on?"

"Just stress," Yumiko said. "This is good, thanks."

"I must not've helped this morning," Enid admitted.

"No, no," Yumiko said, "it's not you. It's just... Magna and I, we've been fighting."

Enid made a face like she'd noticed. Everyone had. Magna had been sleeping on the landing with Jesus' old phonographs for days now.

"It'll work out," she said.

Yumiko chewed her fingernail. "Maybe. Maybe not... Sometimes things are just broken. Sometimes things can't be fixed."

Enid cast Oliver a tiny glance. He looked away the same time she did. He heard her clear her throat. She and Yumiko chatted for a few minutes, then Yumiko left. Oliver sat quietly, applying cream to his ankle and shin and waiting for the pain to fade. Enid took a seat beside him. She sighed.

"She's wrong."

Oliver double took, surprised she was speaking to him. "I hope so. It'd suck to see them break up."

"No, no, about the Whisperers being behind all this. She doesn't want to accept it's them," Enid explained, and Oliver's shoulders deflated. "I'm glad Michonne's getting on board with the truth, but Yumiko's distracted."

Oliver agreed, but sympathised with Yumiko so didn't say so. Enid rubbed her forehead. Her hair was falling out of its ponytail. Her eyes were bloodshot, flitting side to side on the floor.

"That tree didn't fall on its own," she went on, her brow creasing. "Earl told me it wasn't leaning or dying. The roots were healthy. How can anyone be convinced that the Whisperers aren't coming back for worse? It's like everyone's forgotten what they did."

"I haven't forgotten..."

She cast him a glare that softened to a wince. "I know."

"I think about it everyday," Oliver confessed. "Sometimes it's like I haven't even left that barn."

"I know, but—"

"Not everyone is as strong as you," Oliver told her. "Not everyone can just... stare right at what scares them most, without even flinching."

"You think that's what I do?"

"I know it's what you do."

It was meant to be a compliment but it didn't sound like one. Enid tutted and shook her head. A flourish of angry heat rushed Oliver's face as he suddenly realised he'd blown any chance he had of making up with her today. It was like they'd forgotten how to not argue with each other anymore, like they no longer had any idea how to be friends at all. Oliver got up, forgetting his limp, and left the office alone.

* * *

The moon was bright that night. Daryl had decided to return to Alexandria last minute to help on a new lead for Negan and Brandon's search party. Oliver saw him off.

"I'll radio Carol, tell her you're on your way."

Daryl thanked him.

"Wish you could take Dante back with you," Oliver added, but realised that sounded mean, so forced a smile to negate it.

"I don't," Daryl said. He whistled for Dog to follow, and with a nod to Oliver, revved his motorbike and sped away from Hilltop. Oliver watched them disappear, then went inside the house and limped upstairs to the attic, where Eugene had his radio set up. It was modified now, and bigger, spanning several desks, and with the new satellite parts its reception could apparently reach halfway across the country — Eugene boasted about this for several minutes until Oliver found a moment to politely ask for some privacy.

As Eugene left to get supper, Oliver sat in the desk chair and radioed Alexandria's channel. Siddiq answered, which was strange because usually Rosita or Gabriel did, since the main radio was in their house. When Oliver enquired about this, Siddiq said Rosita was in the infirmary.

"Gabriel's over there visiting her. I'm here at their house looking after Coco."

"Is it the stomach bug?" Oliver asked.

"Yeah, but, I don't know, none of it makes sense..." Siddiq sighed. "Never mind, I have to talk to Enid and Dante about that. What can I do for you, Oliver?"

"I'd like to speak with Carol?"

"_Sure. Give me a minute to find her."_

Oliver sat back and listened to Siddiq walk away, then a few minutes later someone else approached. A chair pulled up. _"Hi, __s__unshine."_

Oliver smiled. Relief loosened his shoulders. "Hey. I was just letting you know, Daryl's on his way. And, I wanted to check in, you know... on you."

He could hear her smile. _"Did you try radioing me earlier?"_

"No. This is my first chance to get up here."

"_Oh. Then it must have been someone else."_

She was quiet for a moment so Oliver asked, "Everything alright?"

"_Yeah, I'm fine. __B__een going out looking for Negan."_ Oliver heard something strange in her voice but couldn't place what it was. She moved on quickly: _"Is the wall repair going __well__?"_

"It is, yeah."

"_How about you and Enid? You talking yet?"_

Oliver shifted uncomfortably. He didn't realise she'd noticed they weren't getting along. "I'm giving her some time. I think we all just need... time."

"_We do__,"_ Carol said.

"Maybe we should've gone back to the ocean."

"_Hm.__ Things seemed easier out there."_

Footsteps came up the attic stairs. Oliver leaned back to peer past a heaped crate on the desk filled with burned satellite parts. Dante popped his head over the banister, grinning. As he emerged fully, Oliver saw the bowl of stew in his hands.

"Eugene said you were up here," he said. "Figured I could bring you supper before all the good stuff's gone."

Oliver took the bowl, careful around the radio equipment. "Thanks."

As he took his first bite, Dante's smile widened. Oliver nodded politely, thanked him again, and eventually Dante took the hint and left down the stairs. Oliver put the bowl down and blew air out through his cheeks.

"_Everything okay?" _Carol asked.

"Yeah..." It was embarrassing to admit that Dante made him uncomfortable, as well as probably an overreaction, so instead he just said, "Yeah, fine. Got some food. Probably shouldn't be eating it around the radio equipment."

"_Okay, well, I can leave you to your meal."_

"That alright?"

"_Sure__."_

"Hey. Can I reach you again tomorrow?" Oliver asked, but realised he sounded clingy, so cleared his throat. "Err, you know, 'cause work's dying down a bit, and I've got more time on my hands lately, so it's something to do."

"_Of course," _she said_. "Tomorrow. __I'll be around__. __Oh. __Could you find Enid?__ Siddiq wants to chat __with_ _her__."_

"Sure. Dante, too?"

"_No. __He j__ust __asked for_ _Enid.__"_

"Sure. Night, Carol."

"_Night, sweetie."_

* * *

**Notes**

I know Brandon didn't let Negan out but it's relevant that they think he did for now. I also skipped the Kelly missing/Magna stealing supplies arc because beyond Yumiko and Magna breaking up it just happened not to be relevant to Oliver's story imo. Dante's at Hilltop, too, for reasons that will become clear next chapter. Sorry this one was kinda slow. Nothing really happened except Negan escaping, Oliver being miserable, and set up for the next chapter (which I've been super excited for for months). This is the last filler/set up chapter for a while, and I'm uploading it right after to make up for it.

As always,  
Happy reading.


	19. Open Your Eyes

Uploaded twice today so be careful not to miss the last chapter. Thanks!

Shout-out, once again, for proofreading this one, **fandomismylife**. This chapter especially needed a lot of work and you helped exponentially. Always grateful for the genius advice. Thank you!

* * *

_Hello,  
My name is Mr. Fear  
I wish I had a faster therapy  
I've come  
To mind control your needs  
Tonight I'm gonna star all of your leads_

_You know  
I'll never disappear  
Now get me out of here  
Just trust in me, my dear  
No cure is coming near_

_How long  
You'll call me insincere?  
I'm not here to fulfil your parody  
How come  
My song becomes unreal?  
You never understand my melodies..._

* * *

Oliver knew something wasn't right when he went to bed that night. His throat hurt, and he couldn't get this strange, bitter taste out of his mouth, but he didn't want to complain and make Jerry or Nabila worry, and managed to will himself to sleep. When he awoke again, he was curled up in a ball, clutching his stomach, and moaning from the pain. Jerry was shaking him, saying things. Oliver's head throbbed. His arms and legs and chest felt heavy. Jerry pulled him to his feet, supporting him out of the tent, where Oliver yacked up digested stew and bile against a fence post. He squinted against the sun, wiping his mouth and wondering what time it was. People were already awake, and he saw, by the house, Bertie helping Kal inside. He had vomit down his shirt. Jerry took Oliver inside, too, to the office.

"Here," Enid said instantly, "you'll have to sit on the floor. I don't have any more room. Drink this. Bertie, or Jerry, could you go and check if Dante has room at the infirmary trailer, or any of the other trailers?"

"What if it's contagious?"

"Wash your hands. Cover your face."

"What?"

"What else am I supposed to do right now!? We're already exposed."

Oliver was in too much pain to pay attention to them anymore. Someone had handed him a mug of tea. He spilled it in his attempt to drink. He was very tired. Enid eventually came and crouched in front of him. She gave him pills. He gulped them down with another cup of water. A few minutes later, Dante arrived to help take Oliver and a few other patients to the infirmary trailer, where there were spare beds. It was dimmer inside, and despite the summer heat, Oliver felt cold as he sat on a bed. The other sick patients around him were shivering, too.

At some point, Dante sat Oliver up and shone a small torch into his eyes, pulling open his eyelids for him when Oliver found it too difficult.

"Pupils are dilated, like the rest," Dante mumbled.

"The stomach bug seems to be spreading," Ms. Watts, Hilltop's medic, said from another bed, apparently sick as well by the looks of her vomit-filled bedpan — her arm was still in a sling from the tree fall, and she had a gnarly looking new scar across her face. "But how can it be spreading, Dante? These symptoms are different to those at Alexandria. As well as that, people have been passing through Hilltop for weeks from all over, including you and Daryl, and you aren't getting sick."

"Oh, don't you worry, sweetheart," Dante told her. "I'm here to take care of you."

Exhausted and in pain, Oliver watched Ms. Watts snicker weakly.

"Haven't you heard?" Dante asked her. "I've got the magic touch."

He winked.

Ms. Watts tutted. "Son, I am too old and sick for your nonsense."

Dante laughed, and then Ms. Watts fell into a drowsy quietness, quivering slightly and pulling her blanket around herself. Dante watched her, then he turned back to Oliver, grabbing a tongue flattener and asking him to open his mouth. Oliver did, concentrating on not gagging.

"Burning in the throat?" Dante asked, removing the flattener.

Oliver nodded. He had to shut his eyes and clutch his stomach when a particularly bad wave of pain hit him.

"Come on, admit it," Dante said to him, "there's a tiny part of you that's thrilled to be sick, just so you can spend more time with me."

Oliver winced. "Eh?"

"I get it," Dante said patronisingly, "butterflies in the stomach, just at the sight of me. I know. I'm beautiful."

"That's not—" Oliver shook his head. He couldn't believe Dante was doing this, now.

"The heart wants what it wants, right?" Dante went on. He took his stethoscope from around his neck and put the listening end to Oliver's chest, the buds in his ears. He smiled. "Inhale for me..."

Oliver did, face boiling.

"Good," Dante said. "And exhale... Alright."

Glad it was over, Oliver laid back in his cold bed and turned over, wishing Enid was here. Dante sauntered off, chuckling to himself.

Oliver got worse after that. He remembered begrudgingly eating as much lunch as his stomach would allow and then throwing up shortly afterwards. He remembered the pain, too, everywhere. In his stomach and his head and his throat, but of it all, the bad dreams were the worst part. He dreamed of Henry blaming him for his death, and he dreamed of Alpha standing over him with her dripping machete, and of that Whisperer who made him open his eyes. He dreamed of his friends' screams and he dreamed of the smell of their blood, and when he finally awoke from it all, the sun had set.

To Oliver's relief, Enid was sitting across from him, treating Kal. She looked over at Oliver when she noticed him sit up. She smiled faintly. There were bags under her eyes.

"How long was I sleeping?" Oliver asked.

"Since yesterday," Enid said.

Oliver moaned. "I said I'd radio Carol. She'll think I forgot."

"She doesn't," Enid said. "Alexandria knows we're sick here, too. Carol told me earlier on the radio that she was going to try and make it down here in a few days."

"A few days?" Oliver asked before he thought to act his own age.

Enid twitched her lip to the side, as if she felt sympathetic. "She said she had to get something else done first. Didn't say what, though."

Oliver sighed, wincing. "She doesn't need to come."

"She knows that. Here..." Enid got up and handed him more pills. He swallowed them with some herbal tea she'd brewed. "How are you feeling?"

"A little better," Oliver said, grunting as he sat up.

"Good enough to eat something again? You want some stew?"

"Yeah. Anything to get rid of this... taste in my mouth, like... bitter."

"You've been vomiting."

Oliver had lived his whole life with a notoriously weak stomach, and felt like this was different to the usual post-yack taste, but he didn't want to risk Enid's talkativeness towards him by arguing, especially not since an annoyed crease was beginning to form between her eyebrows as she handed him a warm bowl and a spoon.

"Thanks," he said. "Smells good."

"Dante made it," she said absently, "left it for everyone if you felt better."

"Where is he?" Oliver asked, starting to eat.

"I excused him," Enid said. "He's driving me insane."

"What happened?"

She tutted, like she didn't want to talk about it, then gave it up. "Well, he keeps forgetting who he's given pills or tea to, which runs the risk of giving someone too much or missing out people altogether. He was also on the radio with Gabriel but didn't tell me. I had to find out from Aliyah that someone at Alexandria died from their symptoms."

She bit her lip at the look on Oliver's face.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"No, no, it's okay," he said. "I'd rather know. Who?"

"Cheryl." Enid put her head in her hands.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry you're stressed."

"Don't be. It'll be okay. I'll handle it," she said fiercely. "I'm just worried about you — the sick, I mean. I'm stuck using pre-industrial-age meds, which means that little bugs can suddenly become a death sentence. I'm not going to let Dante's stupidity cost lives."

Oliver felt a swell of pride for her. He touched her hand, but she pulled away, got up, and crossed the room to begin handing out pre-prepared bowls of stew to those who were awake.

Not long after, Oliver began to feel terrible again. Hot-cold flushes. Dizziness. Stomach-ache. Headache. Unending trips to either the bathroom or the bucket beside his bed with Enid holding back his hair for him in between her efforts to help everyone else. There were some moments when Oliver couldn't tell where he was or how much time was passing by. He was so delirious that he began trying to track moments with his heartbeat, faster and faster, until finally, some million years later, it began to slow again and he felt a little better.

It must've been around the next evening that he felt present enough to recognise the sun setting outside the window. He braved another meal. Stew again. Enid talked to him. That was nice. She told him that she'd found out through word of mouth what it was Carol needed to get done before she came to visit: Carol and Daryl had captured a Whisperer and locked him in Negan's old cell, however, before they could interrogate him, the Whisperer hung himself with the rope from Negan's hanging plant. With nothing left to do now, Carol was on her way to Hilltop, hoping to arrive in a few days.

In the night, Oliver grew even sicker than the days before. The only saving grace he had was that he was unconscious for most of it. He still struggled through several fever dreams about Carol falling into mile-deep ravines filled with the dead, and Enid growing bat wings and flying away without him, and one particularly nasty one where Carl was dangling at the end of a noose, and Oliver was there beneath him, dead and feasting from the chest down.

* * *

When he next came to, he was in a lot of pain and it was hard to move at all. Ms. Watts' bed beside him was empty. The sun was setting out the window so Oliver knew that at least another day had passed. He hadn't awoken naturally either. Across the room, behind his back, Enid and Dante were bickering in hushed voices.

"Where did you get your training?"

"Siddiq," Dante said. "Same as you. Look, I'm—"

"I mean before," Enid hissed. "Did you go to school?"

"Well, no."

"Of course you didn't."

"Hey, neither did you."

"But I've been doing this for years. You've been doing it for, what, six or seven months?"

"Didn't you quit though? I mean, that's why I'm here, ain't it? To get this done so that you don't have to?"

Dante had struck a nerve. Enid stood up suddenly. Oliver could hear her chair scrape.

"_I__t was __more __complicated __than that__,_" she retorted, "I... I had my reasons."

"I know your reasons. Siddiq told me."

Enid stuttered. "He... He did?"

"Yeah... and hey, I know it's not like I ever lost a baby like that, before it was born and all, but I did have a son once—"

"I am _not_ talking about this with you..."

Oliver's eyes were wide open, staring at the trailer window. He was so shocked and devastated that he didn't even feel the pain in his gut.

"Look, Eenie," Dante told her, "I don't see what your problem is. I'm just trying to help you."

Enid growled a sigh, sounding like she was pacing by the door. "I'm... I'm just... under a lot of stress. It's been four days. Alexandria's already lost Cheryl, and we've lost Ms. Watts to it. And everyone else is just getting worse."

Dante sighed. "I get it. And I know I've been making a few mistakes lately. I don't blame you for getting a little short with me sometimes."

"I'm sorry."

"Already forgotten," Dante said.

Enid sighed, forcing herself to ease up. "So," she whispered, "where did you live before you started helping at Alexandria?"

"Oh, uh... Oceanside."

"You found them after the Saviors, then?"

"Before that, even."

Enid hummed politely. "Uh, right… I should... get back to the office, see how the other patients are holding up."

"Of course," Dante said. "Just, take it easy okay? I'm only trying to help. If you need anything, come find me."

"Sure, Dante..."

He saw her out. When he came back inside, Oliver had turned over onto his back. He was so distracted in processing what he'd just learned that he forgot to act like he was still asleep. Dante put another bowl of stew in his lap, casting him a wink that made Oliver's eye twitch. As he went around serving the others, Oliver poked his food with his spoon. He still felt too raw inside to eat. In the bowl was some pheasant meat, vegetables from the garden, as well as some type of pale berry. He set the bowl aside, glad that although he was still shivering at least the sweating had stopped. The same couldn't be said for everyone else — it wasn't more than half an hour later when most of them began vomiting again. Dante did his best to clean and change bedpans or buckets and get them enough water to rinse their mouths.

"How was your stew?" Dante asked Oliver once people had either fallen unconscious or into shivering quiet.

"I wasn't hungry."

"Ah, that's the sickness talking."

"Maybe."

"Come on. Just a bite or two."

"Really, I'm fine."

Dante even scooped some and tried to feed him, but Oliver, exhausted and frustrated, especially after what he'd just listened to between Dante and Enid, swatted the spoon out of his hand and sent stew flying across the floor. Dante stared at the mess, something empty in his face. It was gone quickly though. He smiled and looked up. Oliver held his ground.

"Well, we should at least get you washed up, if you're feeling better," Dante said finally, "you reek. I'll take you to my trailer to shower."

Despite the frown on Oliver's face he couldn't deny that his hair was beginning to matt and his shirt had sweat stains _on_ its sweat stains.

"Fine."

He didn't have the strength to walk too far on his own so let Dante support him along the trailer paths. Dante had been given his own place which someone had volunteered to him considering how much he was doing for Hilltop. The only light inside was the setting sun through the curtains and a small solar lamp that glowed faintly across the narrow living area. Despite Dante's profession, he didn't keep a very tidy home. There were clothes everywhere and a distinct musky, unaired smell. The place was dirty, too. Mud was caked on the carpets and furniture and even in the bedsheets, like he never took off his shoes. On the counter was some type of plant remains and ground up flowers.

Oliver was guided to the bathroom at the end of the trailer. He was so exhausted that Dante set him on the toilet lid and switched the shower on for him, then left him to it. Oliver pushed the door shut, undressed, and washed in his own time. The water was cold, so he was meticulous about how he used it; tilting the head against the wall so that he could dip parts of himself under the flow while he scrubbed himself with his hand. He was still so weak that he eventually had to sit on the floor of the shower, washing himself with the same method that way.

He thought back to months ago, before Adam had been found in the cornfields. He remembered Enid saying, _"Can't stop thinking about that baby..."_ and the careful look Alden had given her. Had she been pregnant then? And when did she miscarry? She told Dante it was one of the reasons she quit at the clinic, so it had to have happened after the fair. Maybe she lost it because of the massacre. She can't have been too far along either, or the foetus would have ultimately been a walker.

Oliver shuddered at the thought, his brain full and miserable.

Eventually, he finished combing out his hair, got out, and redressed into his dirty clothes, grimacing at the nasty pain still pounding in his stomach and head. It felt like he was eroding from the inside out, and it got worse, so he sat on the toilet lid to brace himself. He began to sweat and shiver as another hot-cold flush rushed over him.

"D— Dante..."

He heard Dante at the door. He opened it slightly when Oliver gave him permission, his dark eye peering through.

"What's up?"

Oliver winced. "I need to lie down for a moment."

"I got you, man," Dante said, entering the tiny room. He put his arms around Oliver's chest and pulled. He was much stronger than Oliver expected, with tall, broad shoulders — a sudden bad memory crawled through Oliver's chest like a wave of old dread. He felt like his heart was in his face.

"Wait. Get off me!"

Dante was in an awkward position manoeuvring himself and Oliver out of the bathroom so he struggled not to drop him, and instead gripped Oliver harder, then stumbled and tripped over the couch-bed. Oliver landed on it, shoving Dante away.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Dante hissed, catching his footing.

Oliver felt terrible. "Sorry, I just..." He remembered the barn and the Whisperer who'd held his eyes open. Paranoia bled through him. He knew he was only sick, that it was just his mind running away on itself. Just another panic attack. "I don't feel good."

"Here," Dante said. He helped Oliver get more comfortable with cushions. "Can I get you anything?"

"I want to go back to the infirmary."

"What's wrong, man?"

"Nothing," Oliver said, but he knew it was obvious that he was lying. He was breathing heavily and sweating and avoiding Dante's face. He'd not felt so helpless since the barn. "I'm fine. I just want to get back. I need to get out of here."

"No," Dante said, "you're delirious — rest a minute, okay?"

Oliver laid there stiffly on the couch-bed. He had to shut his eyes as Dante bent over him and placed the back of his hand on Oliver's forehead to check his temperature.

"Open your eyes..." Dante whispered.

Oliver did, suddenly, staring up at him wildly. "Wh... what?"

Dante's smile wavered only for a second. Oliver still noticed.

And Oliver realised.

And the room and the world fell still.

"You," he whispered, before he could stop himself, "no..."

Dante glared down at him with a very different look on his face now than normal. It was something like that emptiness from before, only worse.

"Shit..." he said finally. "I walked right into that one, didn't I? And I was doing _so well_."

Oliver's heart sank.

"You're one of them," he whispered. "You were... at the barn..."

"Not just the barn, either," Dante said, like he was glad to get it off his chest, "but you'd never seen my face so the boss lady figured it wouldn't cause a problem. Guess she was wrong. Or maybe... this was part of her plan."

Oliver had to snap out of his fear. He had to think of how to get away, to warn everyone, to think ahead of where Dante's train of thought was taking him. Dante spoke before he thought of anything.

"You're wondering where you know me from other than the barn?"

As not to die too quickly, Oliver nodded.

"Well, first time I saw you was in the woods," Dante explained. "Yeah, we were out there laying a trail of arrows, setting up a trap for... what are their names? Luke... and... damn, I can't remember the other one."

"_Alden,_" Oliver whispered through gritted teeth.

"Yeah," Dante said. "Alden. You saved him that day, you know, showing up like you did, leading them away... _but you __coul__dn't save him __again __in__ the bar__n._"

Oliver was so angry. He felt tears leaking from his eyes. As one fell, gently, Dante wiped it away. Oliver jerked his face back, disgusted.

"This place is special," Dante cooed. "Alexandria, too. I got that right away. The communities work 'cause they're villages. It takes everyone to build, grow, and fight, raise rug rats, and heal people. Everyone carries equal weight."

Oliver stared up at him, breathing fast and hard. He wasn't following what Dante was saying. He was focusing more on how trapped he felt and how huge Dante looked looming over him with one hand above Oliver's shoulder, squashing the cushion underneath his head, pulling some of his hair unintentionally.

Somehow, on shallow breath, Oliver asked, "What did you do, Dante?"

Dante swayed his head in thought. "Crushed a few unripe black nightshade berries into the stew every day, though, there wasn't enough to go around for everyone. Still, killed two so far, didn't I?"

"There was a plan," Oliver said, meaning it to sound like a question.

"Encourage your paranoia about us, push you into bad decisions," Dante explained. "See, places like this crumble at the smallest nick."

Oliver couldn't see a way to defend himself. He could only think to keep Dante talking in hopes someone might hear from outside. "And... err, what are you going to do now?"

"That is a damn good question..." Dante inhaled through his teeth and smiled. "But a better question, perhaps, is what am I gonna do _with you_ now?"

Oliver felt himself pushing backwards into the couch-bed. Quickly he said, "If you kill me, someone will hear. And you won't be able to hide my body either. There are too many people around. Like you said... it's a village."

"Then so be it," Dante said. "Hell, I'll enjoy watching your people figure out what to do with me after they find out what I did. Just like with Negan."

"That's what you want? A public trial? A chance to give your side?"

"That's what they'll give me. Because it's _'right'_."

Oliver stared at him, shaking and weak.

"You know, this is all such a shame, Oliver," Dante told him. "I was really trying to save you..."

"_Save_ me?" Oliver asked, outraged. "You... _poisoned_ me."

"No..." Dante said, his voice very low now. "I was _saving_ you..."

He reached forward with his spare hand and touched Oliver's face. Oliver pulled away, but Dante simply slid his fingers gently around Oliver's hairline, then down along his jaw and neck.

"You have got... such _lovely_ skin," Dante told him, "and it would've looked... great... on_ me_..."

Panic flooded Oliver's brain, paralysing him. It wasn't until Dante moved to place both of his hands around Oliver's neck that he was jolted into a reaction. Surged by adrenaline, he brought his knee up fast. It crushed Dante's groin, sending him recoiling backwards with a yelp. Oliver tried to launch forward, hoping to knock Dante away, but he wasn't strong enough and Dante grabbed him. Oliver felt the couch-bed leave him as he was thrown to the floor. Dante sat on him. It was as if he was made of stone. He was so heavy, with his knees squeezed around Oliver's ribcage and both his hands clamped around Oliver's throat. Oliver was trapped. He tried to fight, to pry himself free, to breathe, but his shuddering arms and legs were too weak.

"Don't fight it," Dante whispered to him, clamping tighter and tighter, squashing heavier and heavier. "Close your eyes. Just... _close your eyes..._"

Oliver exhausted himself quickly. He was so furious and he was so weak and he was so devastated and there was nothing he could do but feel the heaviness suffocating him until he was swallowed and swallowed and swallowed by it. He must've blacked out. He barely felt the relief of Dante letting go of him by the time he finally opened his eyes again, coughing up his lungs. There was grunting and yelping and before Oliver could see what was happening, something smashed, and the trailer went dark, and suddenly a heavy weight landed across his chest. Oliver cried out under the pain of it. His throat ached, still coughing violently, trying to pull himself free. Without any light he could only identify what was on him by feeling it. He felt the shape of Dante's face, his stubbled chin and his thick hair, and a warm, wet gash on the top of his head, spilling down fast and soaking Oliver's face and shirt. He shoved with all his might until Dante tumbled off him. He twitched for a moment, then Oliver felt him go still. Something crackled under his elbows as Oliver pushed himself backwards — the broken solar lamp, he felt, when he touched it with his fingers. It cut him. Oliver grunted, his back hitting what he guessed was the oven now. Confused and forcing his eyes to adjust, he searched the darkness around him. There was panting. Not his own. Something touched his shoulder and made him flinch. He saw a face move in the moonlight.

Enid's voice came to him.

"Oliver," she said desperately.

"Oh —_ Enid,_" he croaked back, "mio amore, _mio amore!_"

"_Oliver..._" she cried.

"Are you okay?"

"I — I think so."

"Did you..."

"Uh-huh..."

"Is he..."

"I think so."

Oliver wasn't sure who hugged who but he didn't care. He held Enid as if he'd never had the chance to before. He held her to make up for all the times he wished he had in the last several months. Her hair was in his face, all tangled and smelling like flowers and sweat and antibacterial soap. He was so grateful. He didn't have the words. He didn't have the words so he pushed his face against hers. It was almost a kiss. It could have been, he knew, if either of them had wanted it to be. But it wasn't. Oliver simply cradled the back of her head in his arms, gripping her hair in his hand, thinking about how incomprehensibly much he loved her.

"Thank you," he said finally, sharing their puffing breaths.

Enid laughed wetly and nodded. They pulled apart. Oliver's hand stung. His throat ached to the touch. It was hard to hoist himself onto the couch-bed so Enid helped him. It was easier to see now with a little moonlight casting across the darkness. Oliver could see that Enid's face was bruised. Her nose was bloody and looked broken. Her hands were bleeding. She must've put up a good fight. Good enough to kill a stone man.

Oliver looked at him, Dante, wiping sweat from his face. "So, you figured out—?"

"He was lying," she said. "I knew from the moment he said he was from Oceanside, that he'd been there since the start."

Oliver frowned at her, then felt his eyes widen as the realisation hit him. "The Saviors killed all of their men. Even the boys."

"I radioed Siddiq as quickly as I could," she said over him. "Before I even started to explain what I was thinking he told me he found out that someone had tampered with Alexandria's water, flipped it from drinkable to undrinkable. It's what's making them all sick. It was—"

"Dante," Oliver said.

"He must've merged into Alexandria after the fair, taken advantage of the fact we didn't know each other, like you said."

"He put some poisonous berry in the stew," Oliver explained. "He told me just before he tried to strangle me."

"Did he say what it was? I might be able to treat it."

"Black Nightshade, I think."

Enid looked horrified. "Come on," she said, "we've got to tell the others, and more importantly, we've got to throw out that stew."

* * *

_Cause you make me feel  
Like I'm so alone  
I know is not real  
But it's in my soul  
And I just can try to face  
The dark inside my head_

_You know  
I'll never disappear  
Now get me out of here  
Just trust in me, my dear  
No cure is coming, you know  
I'll never disappear  
Now get us out of here  
Don't trust in me, my dear  
What cure is coming near...?_

* * *

**Notes**

Song was "Mr. Fear" by SIAMES. Really good song. The music video is great, too, and, if I self-indulge myself, a nice metaphor for Oliver and Enid's turbulent relationship.

I love when Oliver expresses his love for Enid in Italian so that she doesn't know it. He's done it a few times now. At one point in book 3 he called her 'a treasure' and in this he called her 'my love'. Also, an unforeseen consequence of switching Oliver for Siddiq in the barn was that Oliver lived out Siddiq's arc from the show instead. Only he survived because Enid survived the barn, too, and thus was there to save him. It's all a circle, as Morgan would say. As well as that, Siddiq doesn't have to die and totally demean Carl's dying arc in the process, too! So win, win!

I know Dante posed as a random survivor in the show but I changed him to an "Oceansider" to give Enid a more obvious clue. Also removed the tongue click tick that gave away who he was in the show because he'd never done it in the show until the moment Siddiq realised who he was, and they showed that through a single flashback. A bit too shoe-horn-ish for me. If you're gonna write a character with tourettes or a tourettes-like tick, write it consistently. So, yeah, I just put emphasis on his broad-ass shoulders.

As always,  
Happy reading.


	20. Morning Star, Part 1: My Boy

**dampish **ahh, thank you so much. Glad you enjoyed, and noticed!

**fandomismylife **Thank you! And yeah, feel that. Glad I'm not going crazy lol

* * *

Shoutout to **fandomismylife **for proof reading this chapter!

* * *

Dante's corpse was burned a mile outside of Hilltop.

Oliver watched through Maggie's office window as the blazing crew returned through the gate with their carriage of gas canisters. People were already starting on scrubbing away the words _'SILENCE THE WHISPERERS'_ from trailer walls and shed roofs, since Oliver had explained to the council that Dante had written them.

At some point while tending to her patients, Enid found a moment to sit on the chair beside Oliver's bed and sip a mug of coffee. Coffee was a rarity nowadays. One of the cooks must've been stashing it for a special occasion. Oliver was glad they gave it to her. She deserved it, after everything she'd done. Both of her eyes were purple, and her nose was bandaged. Oliver's neck had a thin, uneven bruise running round it.

As Enid sipped her coffee, Oliver wondered if she'd slept yet, but knew it would be useless to ask. Instead, he decided to say, "I heard what you and Dante were talking about last night."

Enid froze, the raised the mug just touching her mouth.

Oliver looked away, ready to forget he mentioned it.

"I don't need you to tell me you're sorry," she said finally, and took her sip.

"Okay," Oliver said.

"And I don't need you to tell me you understand," Enid said, "because you don't..."

He waited.

And she said, "I didn't want it."

Oliver blinked. He wasn't sure why this hadn't occurred to him.

"I tried to," Enid admitted. "Alden was so happy when I told him. But I just... wasn't. And then I lost him, and I lost... it... too, and... I don't know..." She sat back in her chair, sighing. Her eyebrows raised, as if she'd attempted to smile, but hadn't managed it. "It kinda feels like a punishment."

"No..."

She shook her head. "In this world, having a kid is supposed to be a miracle, but... it was just too much. The responsibility, the risk, the stress. You have to be ready to accept it. You have to want it, at least. And I just... didn't."

"It wasn't your fault," Oliver said. "Not losing him, or..."

She nodded like she already understood what he was trying to say, then steeled herself. "It doesn't matter now. I'm never doing it again. I've made up my mind. I'm not cut out to be a mom."

Oliver nodded to her.

Enid took a breath. "Look... I'm sorry for the way I've been treating you."

"Oh, I get that. I snitched."

"It wasn't that. Not really."

Oliver thought for a second. "Was it that I left? With Carol?"

Enid looked at her mug. "I don't know. I guess it was. I guess I just thought, for a moment, that I was done losing people. I thought... I don't know. It was stupid. Losing Alden, and Tami, and even Bean. I felt like I felt when I lost my parents. I was so alone. I didn't even feel like that when I lost Nell; I had you and Carl. And then we lost Carl, but you and me, we had each other. Then this time... it was like you were gone, too. I thought I'd gotten over it by the time you last docked, but I guess not. I shouldn't have gotten angry at you. I shouldn't have used the snitching thing as an excuse to ignore you. It was wrong. I know you were trying to recover. I know you have been. I'm sorry."

Oliver took her hand. He smiled. "I love you," he told her. "You know that, don't you? You know that you'd have to do something much worse than ignore me for me not to love you, right?"

Her shoulders relaxed slowly as he spoke, like his words were winding down the spools in her spine. She finished up her coffee and stood up. She seemed unable to wipe the grin off her face. "Oh," she said, suddenly, reaching two fingers into her breast pocket. "I was asked to give this to you." She handed him an envelope. It smelled sweet.

"By who?" Oliver asked, reading his name in blocky handwriting.

"Guy who works in the distillery," she said, "not Papa Bear, though. His son, I think. I don't know his name."

"Quan," Oliver said, knowing it the moment she'd said 'distillery'.

Enid watched his face. Oliver felt through the envelope paper that something lumpy was encased inside the letter, but he didn't open it yet to find out what. He suspected Enid was waiting for him to, though, but she took the hint after a moment and went to tend to Kal when he called out for her. Finally, Oliver opened the envelope with his teeth, tipped it, and a small handful of flattened, dried, glazed fruit fell out into his lap, along with a single piece of paper.

I read:

_Glad you weren't poisoned to death.  
Had _(here, the word _'me'_ was scribbled out)_ us scared for a minute there.  
Here are some c__andi__ed fruits I __made__. Non__-__toxic, __I swear__.  
Q x_

* * *

Not long before noon, Oliver was feeling well enough to sit outside Maggie's office and read a book, chewing absently on a tasty, slice of candied cherry — it wasn't that he forgave Quan, but it wasn't, either, that he was going to pass up candy, especially since some of the fruit was covered in coco powder. Not exactly like eating chocolate, but it was close enough. Oliver jumped when Carol ran through the front doors and threw her arms around his shoulders.

"I'm okay," he told her breathlessly as she fussed over him. He sat straight on the bench and pocketed his envelope of dry fruit. "I'm okay."

"You almost weren't," Carol said back, sitting beside him and gently moving his head side to side to get more light on the bruises around his throat. She began crying, clasping a hand over her mouth. "I don't know what I would have done."

Enid came out of the office, wiping her hands. Carol stood and pulled her into a hug.

"Thank you," she told her, "for saving my boy."

"Oh. Uh. No problem," Enid said, glancing at Oliver over Carol's shoulder.

Oliver looked away, embarrassed.

Aaron and Daryl appeared through the front door. Daryl came over and squeezed Oliver's shoulder, then pulled him in under his arm.

"What are you doing here?" Oliver asked them both. "I thought Carol was coming alone?"

"She was," Daryl said, "but somethin' came up."

Oliver and Enid frowned at them.

Daryl chewed his thumb, then said, "Lydia ran away."

Oliver's stomach sank. "Oh, merda..."

"We were going to find her, but a Whisperer showed up at Alexandria's gates."

"Her name's Mary," Aaron said.

"Rosita put her in the cell," Carol said. "Mary told us where Alpha's herd is being kept. Were gonna get a group and go find out if she was telling the truth."

"Yeah, then once we're done we'll look for Lydia," Daryl said.

"I'll help," Oliver said.

"No."

"Carol..."

"_Oliver,_" she snapped back.

He gritted his teeth. "Michonne warned me about this. None of this should have happened. I should have gone back to Alexandria. I could have looked out for Lydia. I could have stopped her from running away. I could have stopped Negan from esc—"

"No, no, that's _my_ fault!" Carol shouted.

Oliver frowned. "What?"

"It... It's my fault Lydia ran away," Carol said, sounding uncertain, suddenly, "look, you're barely strong enough to stand. You're staying here where Enid can take care of you."

It was only because she was right —proven by a small wave of nausea as he opened his mouth to argue— that he promptly shut up and did as he was told. Carol, Daryl, and Aaron gathered Jerry, Magna, Connie, and Kelly to search for Alpha's herd. They were gone all day and despite feeling almost fully recovered by bedtime, Oliver went to sleep that night among Jerry's family with harsh twinges of worry in his gut. The tent was too quiet without Jerry's snoring. It had started to sound like calming white-noise by now.

Oliver's anxiety became even less bearable around the next evening when there was still no sign of them. To make matters worse, Gabriel radioed later in the night to tell them that the Whisperer, Beta, had smuggled himself into Alexandria, killed a bunch of guards and some families in their sleep, and sent their corpses roaming the streets while he went round in search of Mary. He was stopped outside of Alexandria at the last minute, but got away. Mary, who Beta had left behind in his escape, was only spared her life because she had saved Rosita's during the attack. Alexandria had a mass funeral in the morning. A convoy was coming to Hilltop to bring Rosita and Siddiq, who were both injured in the attack, to have their injuries treated.

By the afternoon, Oliver was so worried over Carol and the others that he and Yumiko banded together, gathered their things, and headed out to search for them. They were stopped at the gate by Bertie, Beatrice, Kal, and Marco and got in a heated argument over if they should go or not. Though the argument was never resolved because mid-way through, Carol, Jerry, and Kelly staggered along the driveway.

They were bloody and bruised and covered in dust and dirt. Oliver and the others ran to them. Kelly fell into Yumiko's arms, limping, in a fit of sobs. Oliver was nastily aware of the far away look in Carol's eyes as he tried to get her to look at him.

"What happened?" Yumiko asked.

"We found the horde," Jerry said breathlessly, opening his own arms as Nabila ran down the driveway, baby Mariam in her arms and Ezra and Aliyah at her heels, yelling for their father. They all held each other. Over his wife's hijab, Jerry added, "It wasn't where Mary said it was."

"Where was it?" Bertie asked.

"Where are the others?" Yumiko asked, too.

"We got lured into a cave," Kelly cried into her chest. "There were so many of them! We couldn't get out!"

Yumiko face twisted up.

"We got separated," Jerry explained. "Most of us got out."

"Most of you?" Yumiko asked, like she was afraid to hear the answer.

"The cave collapsed," Jerry said. "Connie and Magna are trapped down there, I'm sorry. I tried to hold the mining supports. I tried for as long as I could." Nabila held him until he stopped hiccuping. "Daryl's out there looking for another way in," he said finally. "Aaron went back to Alexandria to let them know the sitch."

"How the hell did the cave collapse?" Yumiko asked, face draining of colour.

Jerry looked at Carol carefully. Oliver glanced at her, too, and in the space of just a few moments she had completely burst into tears. He reached out to touch her shoulder but Kelly got there first, shoving Carol to the ground and shouting in her face.

"You killed my sister!"

Oliver and Bertie pulled her off. Kelly thrashed in their arms. Even with her injured ankle, she was so slim and lanky and furious that it was difficult to keep a grip on her. Kal and Marco had to yell at her to stop. Carol knelt there, holding her face and sobbing.

"She blew up the dynamite — _on purpose!_" Kelly screamed. "It's her fault!"

Oliver turned to Carol. The others, too.

"You did?" Oliver asked, swallowing.

Carol just peered up at him through her shaking hands.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed. "I'm so sorry..."

She was more distraught than Oliver had ever seen her in his life. She gripped her hair in her fists and bent over in heaving breaths. Oliver went to her, ignoring Kelly and Yumiko's glares. Jerry watched helplessly, then went on inside with his family. The others left, too. Oliver brought Carol to her feet and took her inside Barrington House. He spent a long time simply sitting upstairs in her room holding her as she cried in his arms.

"_She killed my boy..._"

"I know," Oliver said, rubbing her back.

"_She killed __my __Henry..._"

Oliver blinked the wet away and said again, "Shh... I know."

And when her wails slowed enough that she could sit up by herself again, Oliver ran her a bath downstairs with the boiling water from in the kitchen, and as she washed, he went outside onto the porch. His chest felt heavy like he was being crushed under the weight of something he couldn't see. He had to sit on the steps and focus on his breath for a few minutes until the feeling began to pass again. He wished he knew where Daryl was, and Magna and Connie, and Lydia, and Negan.

He could see Earl and Marco up on a guard deck in their blacksmiths' aprons rigging up a catapult. Bertie and Kal were at the next deck rigging another. Quan and Papa Bear at the next, and so on — somehow Quan seemed to sense Oliver watching him because he turned his head towards the porch. Oliver watched him for a moment, then looked away.

At some point, the gate opened.

The Alexandria convoy arrived; much quicker than usual in its rush to get Rosita and Siddq to Enid. The carriage horses were sweating and out of breath. Oliver asked Jerry's eldest, Ezra, who'd been on his way out of Barrington House, to fetch Enid from the infirmary trailer. He skipped off to get her.

Aaron, who must've arrived back to Alexandria from the cave in time to join the convoy with his daughter, drove the truck-carriage across the courtyard and parked in front of the house. Oliver only had to spot Judith and RJ sitting in the carriage to jump down off the porch and jog to greet them. He barely remembered he had a lousy leg by the time he'd scooped them both up in his arms with a hearty growl, their squeals and giggles in return enough to act as a cure for his pain.

He asked if they were okay and Judith said they were, and when Oliver asked why she wasn't at Oceanside anymore, she explained she and a few others went back to Alexandria the week prior after Michonne left with a man named Virgil to get guns — this topic was glazed over so quickly that Oliver didn't have a moment to re-examine it before Judith had already gone off on another tale about the attack at Alexandria. She and RJ began talking over each other in competition to get the story out first. Oliver managed to decipher that Judith and RJ were "_right there!" _in the attack and that Rosita had fought Beta "_in their a__partment!"_ and when she got hurt Judith had "_shot __him_ _herself!"_ with her dad's Colt Python and that "_B__eta__ was bulletproof!"_ and Oliver, utterly horrified, looked at Rosita and Siddiq for help. Neither seemed keen to elaborate. Rosita was clutching the bandages wrapped around both her biceps and Siddiq was struggling not to move his arm. It was wrapped up, but Oliver could see clearly that his wrist was broken. Gracie simply sat beside her father, looking alarmed at Judith and RJ's excitement at being in so much danger.

"She saved us," Judith said, pointing at the stranger in the carriage. She was a short, pale, dirty woman who didn't seem to want to make eye-contact with anyone. She wore a dirty, purple, flannel shirt. Oliver did a double take. He'd seen her before. She was at Alexandria that day, summoning the others to a meeting at the border with Alpha, and she'd been there before that at Hilltop, outside the gates, snatching after Isaac's arm as he rushed to rescue his nephew.

"_Hey!_" Earl snapped at Aaron, climbing down from the guard deck and jogging over, wiping grime off his hands with a rag. "Who's that?"

Aaron sighed at the stranger. He put a hand on Gracie's head and gestured for her to go on inside with Judith and RJ, then he turned to Earl. "That's Mary. She ran away from Alpha's camp. She's been helping us out."

Enid and her new apprentice, Alex, had arrived. Overhearing Aaron's words, Enid cast Mary a brief, sceptical glance. Oliver understood why. If this was Mary then she was who fed the others false information about the herd's whereabouts. She was the reason Magna and Connie hadn't made it out.

"What's she doing here?" Earl asked.

Aaron shifted uncomfortably. "Her nephew is, uh… Adam."

Oliver looked at Mary.

"She wants to see him," Aaron added.

Earl scoffed. As he turned and walked away, he growled, "No..."

Enid grimaced at Mary as she helped Rosita and Siddiq down from the carriage. Siddiq was explaining how he'd broken his wrist during a tussle with Laura's walker. It was sad news to them all, even if Laura had been an ex-Savior.

"Earl," Aaron said a moment later, "can we talk about this?"

"You said you were going to bring people who wanted to see Enid," Earl argued. "Not one of our enemies who wants to see _my son!_"

Aaron shook his head. "She's not an enemy."

"You don't know that!" Earl hissed. "You keep her away from my kid."

"Earl—"

"What the hell do you think I was going to say to you? She left that kid out there to die! Your own nephew, young lady — who would be dead, by the way," Earl added, pointing a finger at Mary, "if your brother hadn't given up his life to save him!"

Mary's eyebrows arched. "I didn't know Isaac was alive until after—"

"I don't want to hear it!"

"Please," she cried, "I never meant to hurt my family—"

Earl spat at the dirt by her shoes. "_You __a__re no __f__amily__ to __t__he__m._ You were no sister to him. You gave that title up. Isaac said as much himself before he died, right there in that trailer!"

Tears fell from Mary's eyes, running pale tracks through the mud on her cheeks. Oliver didn't feel sorry for her. Earl was right. Isaac had hated what his sisters had done to him and Adam. Oliver saw Enid remembering it, too, so engrossed in the conversation that she'd momentarily forgotten her medic duties until Siddiq winced. Quickly, she pulled herself together and helped him follow after Alex and Rosita towards the infirmary.

Earl, too, walked away.

Oliver looked at Aaron wearily, then helped the stable-hands with the horses. The sweaty cart horses were thirsty after their rushed journey. Oliver filled buckets from the hose. Beside it, from a stall, Traveller tugged gently on his collar and when Oliver leaned over reciprocatively and kissed her muzzle, she wiggled her bottom lip against his chin and blew hot air in his face. It was the most affectionate exchange Oliver had ever had with a horse, considering that his previous, Roan, had had a nasty temper on a good day. It made his heart warm. After quenching the cart horses' thirst, he got on with helping Oscar and the other stable hands in unharnessing and sponging the horses down, until finally they let them loose in the round pen to roll and scratch their backs in the dirt.

"Hey," Oscar said as they finished off, "still not interested in taking your old job back?"

Oliver smiled. "I might be, considering my seining career is on hold."

Oscar slapped Oliver's back in agreement, said, "Consider yourself hired," and left for his trailer. Smiling, Oliver went back to the house to find Carol, only she wasn't in the bathroom anymore, and she wasn't in her room either. He searched everywhere, but she was nowhere to be found.

* * *

Ezekiel accompanied Oliver to search. They took two horses — Ezekiel's stallion Toby, and Traveller. They kept up a good pace despite the heat as Oliver led the way along country roads, up over some hills, and finally off through a familiar set of trails and into the woods.

"Are you sure you know where you're going?" Ezekiel asked.

"I think so, sì."

The mosquitoes were out and it was so hot that the air wiggled between the trees, threatening a bush fire. Sweat crept down Oliver's chest. His dripping hair clung to his face. Ezekiel still wore a scarf, though, despite the dark wet circles growing under his armour.

Again he asked Oliver, "Are you sure she would have come this way?"

Oliver sighed impatiently. "It's her best friend's old campsite, and it's the last place she spent any real time with Henry. Go look somewhere else if you can think of anywhere better."

Oliver hoped it was clear that he hadn't forgiven Ezekiel for trying to kick him out of his own home several months ago. It seemed so, because Ezekiel didn't argue anymore. Instead he sat deep in his saddle, fiddling with the gold ring on his finger as Toby tölted smoothly through the uneven undergrowth. Traveller was like a drunk mule in comparison to Ezekiel's stallion; her hooves clobbered loud and heavy, tripping over roots or stones every few strides and causing her head to buckle downward as to catch her balance, yanking Oliver forward by the reins in the process if he wasn't fast enough to brace himself. Still, he appreciated her unyielding enthusiasm nonetheless — she never gave up, or doubted him. The mare believed in him. It felt nice. He patted the grey dapples along her shoulder and squeezed her on through the woods.

They found the clearing not long later.

Like Oliver had suspected, yet still found himself relieved by, Carol was sitting down on the small dock by the river, beside Daryl's old tent. Its canvas was tattered and torn up since the fall, when anybody had last been here. The camp as a whole had not fared well through the winter and spring storms. Everything was broken or missing. Walker bodies were wasting away in traps that were never reset.

Oliver and Ezekiel approached her. Carol turned to them, looking a mess, despite her recent wash. Her hair was a tangled spiral twisted behind her head and although she was clean now, she hadn't changed out of her dusty clothes.

"How'd you find me?"

"I didn't know where else to look," Oliver answered, and saw in her eyes the memory of arriving to Lorton to find him after Rick's disappearance, when she had told Oliver the same thing.

"We thought you needed some comfort," Ezekiel said.

Carol looked at her knees. "I don't."

"We were worried about you," Ezekiel added.

There was a great pause between words as the river trickled on beside them all.

"Come on back," Ezekiel said, and when Carol didn't reply, he sat by her side and gestured Oliver to do the same on her other. Oliver did. And Ezekiel said to Carol, gently, "or we'll just sit here, with you, and we'll get eaten by mosquitoes together."

Carol looked at him, then she looked at Oliver, eyes swimming. He dipped his head at her encouragingly, then knocked his amp against her knee. She wrapped both her hands around it, her thumb stroking the thick scaring there, before letting go and glancing down at the dock.

"Everyone hates me," she said.

Oliver felt his eyebrows arch. "Not everyone," he said.

She hiccuped, watching him, weeping softly, and finally she told him, "My boy..."

Finally, she turned away to wipe her face, then took a steep breath and nodded, and when Ezekiel held out his hand to her, she nodded again and took it.

* * *

They arrived back to find Luke and a few others from Oceanside arriving to Hilltop in a carriage. While Carol and Ezekiel went inside Barrington House together, Oliver helped unharness the new carriage horses. He and the stable hands set them loose in the fields, cleaned up, and then Oliver headed for the house and found Luke, Yumiko, and Kelly on the porch, arguing about something.

Luke spotted Oliver coming. With a soft cheer, he opened his arms and Oliver hugged him. He wanted to ask how things went with Jules and he wanted even more to ask who the hell Virgil was and why Michonne had run off with him, but now didn't feel like the appropriate moment. He noticed Kelly's bag was packed. She was tying her shoelaces, looking bitter.

"You going out looking for Connie and Magna?"

"We think so," Yumiko said.

"_We are!_" Kelly retorted.

Oliver chewed his lip. "Want me to come with?"

Kelly glared at him, gritted her teeth, then nodded and threw her backpack over her shoulder. "Thanks, man."

Oliver nodded to her. He had his knife and a full water canteen on his hip, glasses on his face, inhaler in his pocket, and some supplies in Jerry's tent, so as far as he was concerned he would be ready in two minutes.

Yumiko turned to them suddenly, a radio on her hip.

She asked Kelly, "What was the last thing Magna said to you?"

"Why does it matter?" Kelly grumbled. "We're getting them back."

"Yeah, well, what if we don't?" Yumiko asked. "I mean, the whole bloody ceiling caved in on them."

Kelly got in her face. "If you think that they're dead _why _are you coming with us?"

Yumiko watched her sternly. Everyone held their breath. The silence was only broken when the rumbling sound of a motorbike approached from the distance. A moment later, Daryl drove in through the gates with Lydia clinging on behind him. She looked feral. Daryl looked far worse, though. He had a bloody bandage around his thigh. The rest of his pant leg was torn and crusted crimson. He slumped over in pain as he parked. Lydia helped him off his bike. The others rushed over.

"Any sign of them?" Yumiko asked desperately.

"We didn't get that far," Daryl grunted.

Oliver took under his arm and assumed they'd head to the infirmary trailer, only Daryl broke free from his support and turned towards the house instead. Oliver had to run and catch up with him.

"Daryl, what's going on? What happened?"

"Alpha," he growled, wincing. "We gotta talk. Inside. Get everybody."

"Dude, I'm sorry," Luke told him, pointing towards the gate, "but we gotta find our people, man."

"No," Lydia said sternly. "You can't go out there."

"Why not?" Yumiko asked.

They all stared at her. Lydia had that look Oliver recognised from the last time he'd spoken to her. That look like she was full of some big ball of fury or pride or both, only it was different. This time she was scared, too.

"My mother's coming..."

* * *

**Notes**

I enjoy childfree Enid. I think there's immense bravery in raising a child, and I also think there's some bravery in knowing that you don't want to raise a child, too.

Today in useless facts: "Tölt" is an Icelandic word (but universally used) to mean the single-foot/amble gate some specific horse breeds can do (it's extremely strange to watch in case you never have before). I couldn't find another verb to use. Can't exactly say "Toby single-footed smoothly through the undergrowth" and I can't say "Toby ambled through" either because of the context with walkers. Words are weird. I also named Ezekiel's stallion, Toby, after a Rocky Mountain stallion, Old Tobe, who lived during the mid-20th century and is basically the founding father of all today's Rocky Mountain Horses.

As always,  
Happy reading.


	21. Morning Star, Part 2: Take the Edge Off

Many thanks to **fandomismylife** for proofreading this one for me!

* * *

_CW: __N__on graphic s__exual references at the end._

* * *

_In the wake of a hurricane  
Dark skin of a summer shade_

_If you could die and come back to life  
Up for air from the swimming pool  
You'd kneel down to the dry land  
Kiss the Earth that birthed you  
Gave you tools just to stay alive  
And make it out when the sun is ruined..._

* * *

"We have to leave!"

It was Lydia's only advice but nobody at Hilltop was interested in taking it. The last time a threat like this was made, the end result was much worse than a horde. If Alpha really meant it this time, people felt more prepared to fight it here than to run and be caught some place else. They gathered in the reading room to discuss, packed in so close that every couch, chair, and square foot of rug and hardwood floor was full; some were even taking shallow seats against the bookshelves, and a few more had to gather outside around the windowsills to listen in.

"Even if you took out half the herd in that cave, she's got thousands left," Lydia went on, her hair matted and her face grubby. "You can't stay here."

They all discussed. Daryl, stitched up now and refusing to stay at the infirmary any longer, kept his hand on Lydia's shoulder. She leant into his touch, like she needed it.

"I'm not running again," Ezekiel said. "Not after the Kingdom."

Jerry nodded to him. "Hell no."

"But we can rebuild anywhere," Dianne argued.

"We can't," Earl argued. He pointed at Aaron. "How many scouting missions you been on, son, hundreds? Have you ever seen a place like Hilltop?"

"No," Aaron admitted.

Oliver shook his head, rubbing his stump with his hand. "But there are more of them than us. You saw them, man. Jerry? Kelly? Carol? If we stay, we'll lose."

"Oliver's right," Carol said. "We only saw a portion of what was in that cave. It could have gone on for miles. We don't have to die here."

"We're going to have to fight anyway," Enid said.

"That's right," Earl agreed. "So if we die, at least we die fighting for a place that means something. Can you think of a better way to go?"

"I can," Aaron argued. "A batter way to go is with my daughter's _life_ intact, and Judith's, and Ezra's, and Adam's — you want me to keep going?"

Relenting, Earl leant back in his chair, sighing and averting his eyes. Enid, too, uncrossed her arms and softened the frown on her face.

"Fine," Daryl said, "let's get the kids out first. Everybody pack up, we're going to Oceanside. Grab weapons, food, whatever you can. We'll regroup there."

Oliver prepared the Smithsonian carriage. It's tall tarp shelter would hide the children underneath well enough. Judith argued against going, wanting to stay and fight, but eventually climbed in after RJ when Oliver reminded her that if she stayed, she wouldn't be there to protect him. Dianne and Lydia drove the carriage. Daryl rode his motorbike ahead of them with Dog running alongside.

They were back before the next convoy had even left the gates.

Gracie leaped down from the carriage and threw herself into Aaron's arm. Dianne and Quan helped carry two bodies off to the graveyard. It was Felix and Penny, two guards Yumiko had sent off to scout an hour ago. They were still wearing their armour, dark sore rings around their necks. In tears, the children went inside with Bertie and Kal.

"They've brought trees down in the roads, blocked off every road we tried, hung Felix and Penny from a tree," Daryl explained. "They're closing in. All the roads are going to be like it. We ain't getting through. We had a window to, but... we just missed it."

"How do you know?" Oliver asked, but a fearful pull in his gut told him he already knew the answer. It all sounded too familiar.

"Negan," Daryl answered. "He's with her now."

People covered their mouths, or cried out in horror. It had been years since Oliver had witnessed Negan's wrath. Fear of a thing never went away because somebody wanted it to, he realised. It turned out that the fear would always be there, mindless and instinctual, like a wild animal trapped in a small cage.

He pulled Judith under his arm. She hadn't gone inside with the other children. She was shaking. Oliver could feel her trying to stop so he squeezed her slightly. He could tell she was embarrassed to be afraid. He could tell it was why she was out here, watching them take the bodies away, as if to prove something to herself. Oliver wished she didn't see bravery as a competition, especially at her age. It was something Carl used to do.

"We can't stay here," Kelly said frantically.

"We could radio Alexandria, right?" Luke asked. "We could get fresh fighters here. And... and it's not just going to be us. Right?"

"Oceanside can't get here," Dianne said, "Alexandria, either. Not in time. Not after what happened. We're on our own."

Some people seemed to deflate in hopelessness, while others began pacing in panic and anger, arguing amongst themselves. Oliver just gripped Judith tightly under his arm, hoping, this time, that it was her who couldn't feel him shaking.

"Divvy up your arsenals!" Earl commanded suddenly, silencing everyone. "We got catapults up on the walls! A damn good militia! This is what you've all been practising for! _Come on, now, people! Do whatever you need to get your heads on straight! _This is going to be the fight of our lives..."

* * *

Most of Hilltop got on with building the barricades outside the walls, made from the last bits of remaining wood from the fallen tree. Even Eugene, who rarely came down from his radio in the attic these days, was getting himself busy helping out with setting up some sort of electrical booby-trap beyond the cornfields with Rosita. Earl, Marco, Yumiko, and Oliver took charge over distributing weapons from the blacksmithery, and at some point, Yumiko took Oliver aside and gifted him with a hand-crafted mace.

He admired the russet, leather-bound handle, the varnished wood, and the six zig-zagging rows of blunt steel reinforcements running along the shaft. With an awed chuckle, Oliver gave it a smooth test swing. Yumiko smiled and showed him a simple hoop and clip that she attached to his belt beside his knife for him.

"One handed," she explained, "and light-weight, but with a little momentum it does a lot of damage. It's clips on and off like this. Here, try it."

He did, quick and easy with his thumb. He flipped the mace from front-hand to back-hand. It was light enough that it would be difficult to miss it or drop it accidentally. He even tried to re-clip the mace to his hip and pull it free, to see if it might slip loose on its own, but it stayed put, only unclipping when he slipped his thumb under the clip release.

"You like it?"

"Sì, of course," Oliver said, re-clipping it to the shiny new hoop on his hip. "You made it for me?"

"Yeah, well, Earl helped," Yumiko admitted. "He and I figured it was about time you carried something a little more _your style._"

It meant a lot to Oliver, more than just a simple thank you could give, but he didn't know how to express it beyond quickly grabbing her hand and squeezing it. He hoped it was enough, and he guessed it was because she smiled at him, and together they got on with sharing out the other weapons to everyone.

When they were finished, Oliver headed to Barrington House. Enid was inside the foyer, with Nabila, Kelly, and the children. Kelly was teaching them sign language, which, Oliver guessed, was a good distraction for the children after their stressful morning. A good distraction for herself, too. He guessed, also, that Enid was there to babysit Adam for Earl, since she was no longer busy in the infirmary considering all her patients —Siddiq, Daryl, and Rosita— were refusing anymore treatment, despite their healing injuries, in favour of helping out around the colony.

Enid held Adam in her arms, practising the hand movements Kelly was demonstrating, more to teach herself than Adam, since he was still too young. He still giggled at her, clinging to her hands and jolting to their movements. When she saw Earl coming over, she handed Adam over. She looked happy, if not still purple in the face with a distinct swollen bend in her nose now. Still, Oliver managed to feel some of that happiness as well when she spotted him across the foyer because her smile didn't go away. He was relieved. He'd almost forgotten the feeling of her not being in a permanently sour mood with him.

When Enid's smile fell it wasn't Oliver's fault. He turned and saw Mary coming inside the house behind him, heading over. Instantly, Earl stood up, glaring, and in the same moment Enid stormed across the room to block Mary's path.

"_Get out..._"

Oliver stepped over to them. Mary saw him coming, a panicked look in her eyes as she twisted to look at him. She pointed behind her, past Enid, to the children.

"I'm going to say hello to my nephew—"

Enid tutted and snatched Mary by the wrist and yanked her outside onto the porch where the children couldn't see them. Oliver followed quickly.

"Please," Mary begged, "Alpha could come at any second!"

"And whose fault is that?" Enid shouted.

Mary kept her eyes down, breathing quickly. "I hate them, too."

Aaron came over from the courtyard. "What's going on here?"

"She's not supposed to go inside," Enid said, in Mary's face now. "She's not supposed to be around _the children._"

"She's not going to hurt them," Aaron said.

Oliver sighed and stepped back in the hopes Enid might, too. She didn't. Her and Mary's noses were almost touching, bandage brushing skin. Mary lowered her eyes to the floor, her hair matted, clothes ragged, and so dirty that it was believable to imagine she hadn't managed to wash in years. Enid grimaced.

"Do you really want to fight about this now?" Aaron asked her.

"Yeah," Enid said, "I do..."

Mary's eyes flitted up at her face, then Oliver's, then back down to the decking.

"Earl's like a father to me," Enid growled, "and to Adam. And we lost Tammy. And then I lost..." She took a shaky breath and her eyes went empty for a second. She came back onto the decking, into her own body again, lips curling. "And he's been raising that baby, _alone,_ for her, and for us — _not for you_. He's not yours. _He'll never be._"

She turned to Aaron.

"And you," she said to him, "you think I'm picking a fight. What, you think I'm being too emotional?"

Aaron didn't answer her.

"If I die tonight it'll be for everything we've been trying to build," Enid told him, and cast out an arm towards the house, "_for__ us __all__!_"

She went back inside, slamming the door behind herself. Oliver waited for Aaron and Mary to leave towards the tents before he went inside after Enid. He wanted to talk to her, to see that she was okay, but she had already disappeared upstairs into her room. Earl cast Oliver a knowing glance, then propped Adam on his hip, dismissed himself from Kelly's class, and went upstairs after Enid.

Oliver decided he needed a drink.

The distillery looked empty when he snuck a glance through the window. Although, when he knocked and opened the door to peer inside, Quan's voice called out to him from behind a tall shelf of colourful masonry jars.

"Is that you again, Mr. Harris? I'm sorry, sir, but Papa Bear told me specifically not to give you _or_ your wife another jar. You've had a jar already. At this rate you'll be smashed before Alpha even — oh."

He spotted Oliver through a jar of Blueshine, his eyes magnified and unnaturally navy through the liquor inside. He moved his head aside to look at Oliver properly, his eyes returning to their normal size and colour.

"Hey."

"Yeah, hi." Oliver grimaced awkwardly and rubbed his hand over his hair. It was knotted, so he pushed it back behind his ears. He decided to make this quick. "So, err, Earl told us all to do what we had to do, to get ready for a fight, so I came to grab a drink, to, you know... take the edge off."

He cringed at himself.

"Shit, I feel that," Quan said, shouldering his way through the awkwardness like he always did. "Here, I've got some leftover Lightning Shine from the fair."

Oliver nodded casually. "I'll go out foraging for berries or herbs as trade. Although, it'll have to be after all this junk with the Whisperers is over."

Quan walked around the shelf and presented a small jar of clear purple liquid. "Ah," he said as Oliver took it, "but can you promise me that you'll even still be alive by then?"

Oliver didn't answer. Adrenalin prickled his stomach.

"That was supposed to be a joke," Quan said.

Oliver shrugged, as if to forget it.

Quan sighed. "Don't worry about trading, man. The shine's yours."

Oliver frowned. "I'm not interested in handouts."

"It's not just you." Quan tutted. "I've been giving away drinks all day. You're like the eighth person to come in here. It's the least Papa Bear and I can do right now."

Oliver nodded, grateful. He felt accomplished, too. Quan knew he wasn't forgiven and Oliver had scored himself a drink. He could've left, but the triumph got the better of him and he instead decided to share this moment.

"Want some?"

Quan huffed a relieved chuckle and nodded. Oliver unclasped the jar lid — well, tried to, but it wasn't possible with only one hand. Quan took it from him, unclasped it. He didn't make some smug joke like Oliver expected. He just drank a small swig and handed it back. Oliver drank, too. The spiced lightning went down his throat smooth and hot. Quan smiled, flattered by the look on Oliver's face. Oliver set the jar down and took a seat on a narrow workshop bench, facing Quan.

"Thanks for the candied-fruit."

Quan didn't say anything, just twisted the corner of his mouth up, then looked down at the floor, nodding.

Oliver sighed. "How are you holding up?"

"Honestly?" Quan asked. "Terrified. More than the last time we thought a herd was coming."

Oliver meant to scoff but just sighed heavily. Finally, he offered Quan another drink, but was declined, so set the jar aside.

"I wanted to apologise," Quan said finally. "I've wanted to for a while now."

Oliver rolled his eyes, but was in a forgiving enough mood to let him go on.

"After the whole mess with Brandon and Negan," Quan said. "I… I want you to know: I didn't realise Brandon still supported him like that."

Oliver frowned. "Good apology."

"No," Quan said. He seemed to be struggling over what to say. "I... I just mean... I trusted Brandon. But a while before he left he started saying things. Weird things. _Violent_ things. I mean, I told him it wasn't cool, and I never really expected him to act on them, obviously. I mean, I figured it was just dumb stuff guys say sometimes. But then he left with Negan, and now he's probably joined the Whisperers, too, and —I don't know— I guess something was off with him. I guess after all those years with him being at Alexandria and me being here at Hilltop, we just... grew into different people, and I didn't realise."

Oliver watched him, waiting.

Quan sighed.

"I'm sorry because you were right," he admitted. "I shouldn't have wanted Brandon as a friend. He's an asshole. He made me an asshole in_ one day_ hanging out with him_._ I shouldn't have said those things to you — in the theatre, or in your room. I shouldn't have let someone make me feel so ashamed of myself."

Oliver glared at him even though swells of smugness were welling up inside him. He couldn't lie to himself. He was a sucker for being told he was right, especially when it came from someone who always seemed so sure of themself, like Quan.

"Look… it's just..." Quan said, struggling still. "I... _miss_ you. Hanging out with you, I mean."

It was hard not to laugh. "You what?"

Quan sucked his teeth. "Don't go getting all weird about it."

Oliver scoffed. "You're masculinity is as fragile as your ballsack, man. _And it shows._"

Quan tutted, but otherwise didn't deny it.

"We might die tonight," Oliver admitted finally, "right?"

Quan glanced at him slowly. "Right..."

Oliver shrugged, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

"So what?" Quan asked him.

"You know what, idiota..."

Quan seemed to because he suddenly had to hide his grin by rubbing his lip with his thumb. "You, uh... still wanna take the edge off?"

Oliver looked at him, glad they'd finally reached the same page, because if he was honest with himself, he was desperate to. He had been for months. It was easy to go without something for a long time if you gave yourself a reason not to dwell on it, which is what had happened for almost eight years. But Quan had awoken something in Oliver, something manic and even something vulnerable. While out at sea, especially, it had been difficult to ignore it in the slight hours of the morning when the moon was still hanging low over the wide open horizon and Oliver found himself alone down in his cabin cot where his mind had time to wander, and even with everything going on, the feelings hadn't gone anywhere. He didn't know what the feelings were exactly, but he knew they were there... bursting.

He was already sweating along his neck and forehead.

He swallowed, his throat dry, and asked, "Where?"

And Quan said, "Here?"

And Oliver said, "What about Papa Bear?"

Quan went to the window. "We have some time. He's busy setting up the catapults."

"What if more people come by to pick up drinks?"

Oliver watched as, in reply, Quan pushed a chair under the doorknob, and with that, it was like any feeling that could possibly disrupt this, what was about to happen, was locked out of the distillery, too. It was just him and Quan among the moonshine shelves. Quan took his wrist and led him to a dim corner towards the back of the shack where the setting sunlight from the windows couldn't touch them through the shimmering shine jars. Their refracted light cast small scattered rays of red and gold and green and indigo across the skin on Quan's shoulders. He looked like some piece of art. Oliver wanted to see the colours better so he untied Quan's apron, pushed aside his suspenders for him, and pulled his vest off over his shoulders. A whole rainbow shone across the skin of Quan's throat. Oliver caught the rays in his mouth, kissing all the colours until he swore he could taste them. The turquoises and the crimsons and the violets. He stepped forward against Quan's chest, pushing him back. A shelf jolted. A jar fell to the wooden floor with a heavy smash and gush. Oliver undid Quan's pant button and slid his fingers under the hem of underwear there. Quan pushed his face against Oliver's collar and gasped.

Quan had the right idea, like he sometimes did:

This was definitely a good way to take the edge off.

* * *

_That's the same way you showed me  
You showed me love  
Glory from above  
Regard, my dear__  
__It's all downhill from here..._

* * *

**Notes**

Hoping this was a nice sort of short-and-sweet ending to hold on to for the next few gruesome chapters to come.

Song was 'Pink + White' by Frank Ocean. Sweet song. Lots of prose.

Happy reading.


	22. Morning Star, Part 3: The Horde

**Dampish** Your comments made me smile, thanks for that :) Yeah, agreed. Having children is especially pushed upon women as if it's something unavoidable. It's very regressive. Having children should be a choice, not an obligation or an expectation. Ooh, so, regarding Oliver's mace: there is no visual reprisentation as far as I'm aware. I deliberately tried to give him something unique, but it's definitely very heavily inspired by all the cool maces we've seen this season. Especially Luke's badass one, as well as Rick's old one. I'm glad you could imagine it well enough to enjoy it, though!

_Once again, many thanks to **fandomismylife **for giving this chapter a super helpful proof read._

* * *

CW: Some body horror gore in this one but it's not like you're surprised.

* * *

_Take a hit, shoot me down  
I won't ever hit the ground  
Playing dead, I'll never do  
Gotta keep an eye on you_

_Put an X on my chest  
But I'm still standing 'cause I won't forget  
The hell on __E__arth you put me through  
I'll save myself in spite of you..._

* * *

The shack wall was coarse and itchy against Oliver's back. Quan's nose was buried in the crook of his neck, his breath warm there, the back of his head damp in Oliver's palm. As Quan lifted his head, he touched his nose to Oliver's chin, then kissed him, his eyes shut.

Oliver watched him.

Finally, softly, he said, "Really, man... that was only—"

"Because we might die," Quan said, stepping back and nodding, "yeah, I know. It's not complicated."

Oliver forced a smile, hoping Quan meant it. To complicate this, what they had, simply wasn't an option. Quan didn't want to come out yet, and Oliver already was. Those two facts alone refused all complication, which, when it came down to it, worked for Oliver. He got it.

He nodded gratefully and redressed.

"_THE HORDE'S COMING!_"

They both startled at Yumiko's distant shout. Quan ran to the distillery door and pulled aside the chair. Oliver was still yanking on his jacket as they rushed outside to the gate, squinting at what they were seeing. Oliver adjusted his glasses. There were rats, a whole mischief of them, scurrying towards them through the cornfields. Quan stumbled back in disgust.

Other wildlife began fleeing from the woods, too — deer, raccoons, even flocks of birds bursting from the treetops, squawking and cawing in panic. Oliver leapt aside before a buck ran him over. It only didn't get through the gate because Jerry shouted and waved his arms, veering it off in another direction. Oliver had never seen anything like it. He knew herds, or thought he did. He'd seen herds so big they filled all of Alexandria, so big they filled whole quarries. But this? It was a new level, just like Lydia had warned.

"See them?" Yumiko asked, ushering Luke and Kelly inside.

Oliver shook his head. "Can't even hear anything yet."

"Dear, Lord," Quan mumbled, rubbing his head.

"You pray?" Oliver asked him, goosebumps rising.

"Not since the days when my momma told me to," Quan said, breath short, "think it's too late to start up again?"

"We'll find out."

Oliver kicked a rat before it ran through the gates. It squealed and scampered away across the gardens. He helped shut the gates, then followed everyone inside Barrington House where people were busy preparing. The children were herded into the piano room by Ezekiel. Among them, Earl was saying goodbye to Adam. Enid was watching from the door. Oliver took her hand. She looked at him, fear and fierceness in her eyes. He squeezed her fingers, nodding.

In the foyer, everyone got some armour. Oliver found a pair of knee guards, elbow guards, a glove, and a leather breast plate. He found Carol in Maggie's old office looking up at the six painted portraits on the wall. The Greene family: Beth, their brothers, their mother, Hershel, and in the middle, Glenn. When Carol noticed Oliver watching her, she squeezed her bow in her hand and walked over to him.

"I let Negan out of his cell," she said.

Oliver blinked and felt his brow crinkle together.

Carol watched him. She swallowed.

She said, "We made a deal."

Oliver's throat dried up. "A... deal?"

"Please don't hate me."

Oliver was speechless.

"Just trust me," Carol said, nervous, but stern. "I... need you to do that for me. I don't know if I'll get through this unless someone, unless_ you,_ trust me on this. I don't even know if I..."

Oliver had to steady his breath. His fingers were trembling so he clenched them into a fist. He could barely nod, but managed to. He nor Carol said anything else to each other. Carol just nodded back to him, patted his chest, and said, "Good luck, my love."

She disappeared outside before he could even reply.

* * *

By nightfall, the catapult handlers and all archers, Carol, Earl, Enid, and Yumiko among them, were ready at their guard decks. On the front line, the rest of the soldiers were lined up outside Hilltop's walls between the gate and the barricades. The front row carried large, studded-steel, body shields. Among the second row, Oliver stood ready with the other soldiers, mace in hand. All together, everyone listened to the night noises. For a whole hour, the growling slowly grew louder over the chirping crickets and buzzing mosquitoes. Finally, the treeline in the far distance shook, closer and closer. Birds flying overhead swooped back on themselves in order to escape the sight of what was coming. Closer and closer. Louder and louder. Oliver felt the blood drain from his face. A wall was spreading through the trees, like a slow, dull, grey tsunami. Rotten and unyielding. Distinguishable figures began stumbling into sight, their growls —all together— a white-noise _ROAR_.

"Formation!" Aaron commanded among the front row, peering over his body shield.

The rest of the front row cocked their shields at the ready. The clang of metal echoed across the hillside. They watched as the first emerging walkers caught themselves on Eugene's booby trap; a long active set of wires coiled around the trees behind the cornfield. Sparks flew up into the black sky. The wires fried the first hundred or so, before the sheer weight of them caused the wires to begin snapping, sending great sheets of embers bursting up through the trees — destroying the trap in a small fiery explosion.

"Split into two!" Aaron instructed. "So they don't load up! My command! Splitting ranks! And… _break!_"

In sync, the soldiers split down the middle, one veering left, the other right. The front row of each split met the walkers at the barricade and set down their shields against it as reinforcement. Daryl made first contact. He had a new mace, too. Not like Oliver's, though. Daryl's was a morning star on a steel chain. With it, he cracked through a walker's skull and the rest of the soldiers followed suit. The archers shot down at the dead, too. Oliver's mace crunched through skulls. He leaned over the barricade to achieve better swings, but felt it sway dangerously under the walkers' weight. The others heard it creaking and splintering, too.

"It isn't gonna hold!" Luke shouted.

They had to keep fighting.

They had no choice.

From the horde, small sacks came flying through the sky towards them, bursting as they landed and sending large splashes of some sort of sticky, brown liquid all over everyone. The scent of it reminded Oliver of the grove.

"It smells like a Christmas tree!" Jerry shouted, shaking the liquid out of his drenched hair and face.

More full sacks splashed down around them.

"It's tree sap!" Oliver shouted, dodging a sack that burst against a barricade nearby. It splashed him a little, but mostly got Quan, Beatrice, and Marco. Oliver took out another walker under his mace. It slumped against the barricade and he had to jump back before the whole structure sagged inward under the weight. He opened his mouth to ask, "Why tree sap?" but his answer came in a flurry of glowing flames that burst against the ground nearby. "_Watch out!_"

One single flame caught Quan by the shoulder.

Oliver saw it.

And then, in the same instant, Quan's left arm went up.

Screaming, Quan stumbled back, smacking the fire desperately with his other hand. Oliver rushed over, barely even touching Quan's arm before the flame caught alight on his own sodden fingers, sweeping its way up to his elbow. The pain made him scream and fall to the ground and then Papa Bear was there, throwing Quan to his stomach and burying his and Oliver's flames in the dirt. Oliver was put out quickly. The relief made him sob. As he sat up, gasping and shaking, he twisted around and watched helplessly as the flames continued licking their way along Quan's arm and over his shoulder, burning up his clothes and skin. Oliver could barely stand to hear the screams. He tried to help again but Papa Bear shoved him.

"Stay back, foolish boy!"

Oliver did as he was told, watching Papa Bear put Quan out. Quan was almost unconscious from the agony of it. Oliver winced, his hand throbbing, covered in steaming sap and welting blisters. Others on fire around him were screaming. Ezekiel pulled him by the waist, suddenly. Bursts of flame and tree sap erupted where he had been standing. Someone was engulfed entirely. Oliver couldn't even recognise them through the flames. He and Ezekiel just watched, helpless, as they dropped to the ground, howling.

"Fall back!" Aaron bellowed.

"Back inside!" Daryl seconded.

"_RE__TREAT__!_"

Ezekiel backed away from the flaming man. Walkers were tumbling over the barricades. Oliver helped Papa Bear carry Quan towards the gates. People were rushing around them, shouting and crying out, hurtling ahead, and then the walls went up in flames. Everyone skidded to a stop. They watched as the gate caught fire, too, and the garden, and then Barrington House.

* * *

Hilltop's catapults hurled down heaps of rock at the oncoming horde. Oliver shouted Carol's name as he saw her up on the guard deck with Yumiko and Enid. She spotted him, shielding his eyes from the fires' glow, then pulling back her bow string and sending an arrow whistling over his head — through an oncoming walker's forehead.

"There's a break over there!" she shouted down at those who were able to hear her, "get inside!"

Using their weapons, they wrenched the burning wall apart, creating a hole large enough for people to leap across the flames without getting too singed. Others hung back, fending off the horde and helping people through, until they were forced to retreat inside the walls. The walkers were slow, so the fires ate them easily from the legs up. Some collapsed, while others managed to stumble through as if unaffected. Oliver and the rest began taking them out, careful with the flames.

"We gotta jam them up!" Daryl ordered.

Soldiers with body shields ran forward, keeping the dead back, while the rest worked at bashing in skulls. And then there were other walkers, leaping through the flames with knives. Someone stabbed the old millwright through the heart. Oliver cracked open the Whisperer's skull who had done it. He saw, then, as the millwright took his last breath, but didn't have enough time to put him down properly before another walker approached. Oliver only realised it was alive because its mask was askew and it tugged it straight. The Whisperer looked at something to Oliver's left. He glanced and saw another Whisperer creeping forth. He gripped his mace. He wished he had his other hand, or his prosthetic.

The first Whisperer charged. Oliver raised his mace, then gasped as his opponent received an arrow through the throat and fell backwards, dead. The second Whisperer cowered in horror, begging for their life. Oliver swung his mace through their temple — this had been the tenth person he had ever killed. Briefly, Oliver thought the words, _'I stopped counting when I hit double digits. That's right around the time I stopped feeling bad about it...' _Paula's experience seemed not to be unique, either, because he felt nothing; no sinking dread like he had with every other life he took, just disgust and fear as he swivelled round to look at who had helped him.

Enid stood there across from him, sap-soaked hair sticking to her face and glistening against the surrounding flames. She lowered her bow and turned to the house. Fire and smoke rose out through the upstairs windows.

"There are people still in there," she said, and broke into a run.

Oliver called out for her, but she didn't hear him. He ran after her, inside the house, through the flames and the smoke and all the way up to Enid's room. She lifted Adam off the floor. The baby was screaming, scared by the flames.

"I have you," Enid cooed. "We're going to be okay. Just hold still. I'll get you out of here."

"Why is he still up here!?" Oliver called out.

"Earl was supposed to get him to Ezekiel," Enid answered, shielding Adam's face from the smoke, "but he got stuck outside trying to free the horses."

"Een!" Oliver coughed, squinting. "Don't let the fire touch you! You're soaked in sap! You have to go, now!"

"Okay," she said breathlessly, hugging Adam close, "come on!"

"No, you go!" Oliver shouted. "I'm gonna try and make sure the house is clear!"

"Wait!" Enid said, holding Adam out. "Take him, I'll go make sure everyone's—"

"No, Enid! _JUST GO!_"

She tried to argue but Oliver was already gone, barely hearing her as she swore after him. Oliver saw her descending the stairs through the smoke and leaving the house. He called out for any listening ears as he hobbled along the landing. He heard cries of help from one room. The door was stuck and the handle burned him when he tried to twist it, so, with three hard shoulder-shoves, he barged in — the lockset burst from the frame, slamming the door against the wall, which was on fire. Inside, Granny and Juni were hiding behind the bed, trapped.

Shielding his face, Oliver shouted at them, "Go!" They rushed out of the room, gripping each other's hands and covering their mouths with their spare elbows.

"I can't see anything!" Granny cried.

"Hug the left wall!" Oliver yelled. "Follow it to the stairs. You'll see the door!"

Juni glanced back, signing for Oliver to accompany them.

Oliver waved them to go on without him.

Juni put his fingers to his chin, then, as, "_Thank you,_" gestured them outward.

"Go!" Oliver cried. "Please!"

Granny pulled Juni along behind her and they both disappeared through the smoke. When he was sure the top floor was empty, Oliver leapt down the stairs four steps at a time and as he hit the bottom, his janky ankle gave in and he landed hard on his knees. Grunting in pain, he got up sheepishly and rubbed his shin. He heard a voice from somewhere — Ezekiel, calling out for help. Oliver burst into the closest room, his limp numbed by adrenaline. Ezekiel and the children were huddled behind the grand piano. Ezekiel's eyebrow was bleeding. Judith and RJ launched forward into Oliver's arms.

"What are you still doing in here?" Oliver asked, clipping his mace to his waist and lugging both Judith and RJ onto his hip. "We need to get the kids out!"

"I can't find Adam!" Ezekiel groaned.

"It's okay, Enid's got him. Come on! Go!"

"But the Whisperers, they're out there—"

"No choice! The house is coming down! We have to go!"

Ezekiel pulled himself up. He was limping, too. He and Oliver herded the children across the foyer and then, when they were almost at the door, Oliver felt RJ twist to peer up at the ceiling. Oliver looked, too, heard the loud splintering cracks above.

Ezekiel noticed as well. "What's that noise—"

"MOVE!"

With all his strength, Oliver threw Judith and RJ ahead. As they soared through the air and collapsed against Ezekiel and the other children, a whole section of the ceiling crashed down behind them. Oliver staggered backwards in his attempt to avoid being crushed. Embers singed his clothes. The floor shook. Oliver tripped and hit his head. It was hard to keep his eyes open. He could barely see through the smoke. Flames danced in his vision. He felt the searing heat of them, too close, twisting up his skin. He cried out. He could hear Judith coughing and screaming his name from the other side of the fallen ceiling, and Ezekiel shouting at her, "We gotta go!"

Oliver crawled away from the burning wooded beams, coughing up his lungs. His ankle panged when he tried to stand, so he stayed on his elbows and knees. He cried out when he touched a burning section of the floor, causing the skin on his forearms to melt and bubble. There was so much smoke. He couldn't breath and he couldn't see and then he could no longer carry his own weight. As he thudded to the wood floor, unabashed heat seared around him, smoke filled his chest, and his glowing hot world grew darker and darker until—

Until—

Until—

Arms grabbed under his chest, pulling him up.

"Gonna make me bust my stitches for you, huh?"

Someone pulled him against a wall. Oliver tried to lift his head, to open his eyes. Through the black smoke, he saw a pair of angel wings; one a dull, familiar, pale-grey, and the other painted a glowing bright blue that shone through the haze of the room.

Squinting, Oliver watched Daryl raise a chair above his head and throw it through a window. The smash rang across the crackling flames and Oliver felt cold air wash against him, briefly, then the searing heat again engulfed him. The flames, fuelled by the air outside, licked their hungry way closer. Oliver barely found enough strength to lean away from it. Daryl ran to him, put his arms around Oliver's chest, and with a loud, strained grunt, wrenched him up and over his shoulder. Oliver saw the back of Daryl's legs, carrying him across the room.

He was slung through the window. As Oliver fell, he didn't have the strength to catch his own fall. He slammed into the ground so hard he blacked out.

It must've been mere seconds later when Oliver opened his eyes. He twisted round, panicked and coughing violently. He was several feet away from Barrington house now. Daryl threw his morning star through a walker's skull, then jogged over, out of breath and sweating, to place a hand on Oliver's shoulder.

"Y'alright?"

Oliver couldn't answer. He was trying to breathe. He tried his inhaler. It made no difference. He was suffocating. His own body betraying him. He threw up. Then Enid came running then, out of nowhere, Adam in her arms and her bow on her back. She said Oliver's name and he vomited again, totally breathless. He felt his eyes bulging and his throat closing, sheer waves of panic coursing him.

"A minute," he managed to gasp out, clutching his shirt. "I need... a minute."

Whisperers or walkers or both were closing in.

Oliver couldn't get up. He collapsed onto his back.

He couldn't breathe.

"What's wrong with him?" Daryl hissed, turning briefly to bash in someone's face. "His medicine ain't workin'."

"Your lungs are too full of smoke," Oliver heard Enid say, "you're not taking in any air. You have to calm down."

He pushed her away, straining tiny breaths, scratching his chest.

Adam's screams churned his brain.

Enid put the baby down beside Oliver, then stood and gripped Daryl's arm. "I'm sorry. I know you're not fully healed yet, and I hate to ask an injured patient to overexert themself," she explained to him, "but please, don't let anything kill us..."

"Doctor's orders?" Daryl asked, swinging his morning star.

Enid looked over her shoulder at him. She nodded. "Doctor's orders."

Daryl stayed close, protecting them, destroying anything that came within ten feet. Enid pulled Oliver to sit up, holding him there. Still, it tired him out quickly. He was told to breathe out hard and long. He struggled to, his breath coming in strained wheezes. As he inhaled, desperately, Enid put his inhaler in his mouth and pressed the cartridge twice. The cold chemicals stung his tongue. She told him to calm down again, to look at her, and to, once more, breathe out long and hard. And he did. As he sucked in a frantic breath, she pressed the cartridge another two times. This attempt was steadier, the medicine working. He nodded to communicate this, so she handed him back his inhaler.

"That's it," Enid told him, picking up a screaming Adam again, "slow and controlled. You're okay. You're fine."

Daryl was still bashing away, starting to struggle. Oliver got up, slow and unsteady, ankle throbbing. He unclipped his mace, breathing hard, head rushing. Enid propped Adam higher on her hip, shushing him uselessly. She touched Oliver's arm. He nodded to her. She nodded back and unsheathed her knife with her free hand.

They fought on for hours.

The horde was endless.

Oliver lost sight of Enid and Daryl at some point in the chaos but he had no choice other than to keep fighting. He found Luke at some point close to dawn. They stood back to back, relieved to finally find a friendly body.

"I dunno, man," Luke yelled, "I can't find any of our people. I think we have to run!"

"No! We can't!"

"Nobody's left!" Luke panted, coated in ash. "Hilltop's gone..."

Oliver turned, looking at the ruins of Barrington House. The courtyard was filled with wasted bodies and investigating Whisperers. The only reason he and Luke weren't dead yet was because most of the walkers were busy feasting on bodies and the Whisperers were leaving the rest of them to deal with the remaining living.

Luke yanked him by the arm. "Come on, man! We have to go."

With a frustrated growl, Oliver agreed. As they ran across the disintegrated wall and off into the woods, a Whisperer followed them. Oliver and Luke kept going, hoping to lose her, but Oliver was too slow with his limp and after only a few minutes she managed to creep up on them. She let out a scream as she plunged her knife towards Oliver's back. On reflex, he dropped to the ground and she tripped over him. Luke pushed her down before she could stand. Oliver rolled over, mace swinging, and hit her arm. He heard the two narrow bones there snap, saw how her arm bent suddenly at odd angles. In the same moment, she dropped her blade, screaming and rolling away. Luke winced. The Whisperer stood up quickly, hissing through her teeth, glaring at them.

"Stay back!" Oliver shouted, still knelt there.

Luke raised his palms, approaching her carefully. "I'm sorry. Lady, we don't want to hurt—"

Oliver didn't see the rock in her other hand until she threw it at Luke's face. He keeled over instantly. The Whisperer scrambled forward to straddle him, retrieving the rock and raising it over her head.

"Over here, asshole!"

She turned her head and saw, for a second, as Oliver lurched onto his side, but didn't have the time to react beyond widening her eyes in horror as he sent his mace through the her middle of her face. As she hit the ground, she made no sound. She simply stared up at him, her face a cave. She raised her mangled arm, as if to beg for her life. She might have, if she still had a mouth to talk with. Instead she spluttered blood.

Oliver hit her again.

Her brain splashed across his face. A mix of tongue and eyeball slid down the jagged rows of his steel mace. The Whisperer twitched, and then, finally, she went still.

Out of breath, Oliver clipped his mace to his hip again and took his inhaler. He went to Luke, pulling him onto his back and checking he was alive. Oliver's fingers were numb from his burns, so he put his ear to Luke's mouth instead. To his relief, he heard Luke breathe. He pushed both his arms around Luke's chest and pulled him to sit up. Blood oozed down Luke's face from somewhere behind his hairline. Oliver grunted his name twice before Luke roused and mumbled something back. He even got up and followed Oliver through the trees a little way, but soon he began to struggle to keep up until finally he collapsed unconscious in the undergrowth, two red lines running down each side of his face.

"Luke!" Oliver gasped, limping back over to him. "Man, wake up. Come on, get the fuck up!"

Luke wouldn't wake up. He didn't even flinch when, after some hesitation, Oliver smacked him across the face. Oliver looked around the woods, through the foggy undergrowth, and swore he caught a glimpse of Scab, skittering through the trees. More shadows shifted against the dim sunrise, sending Oliver's heart to his mouth. He glared up through the foggy treetops, and could still see the black columns of smoke rising through the pale yellow sky, to the misty clouds above.

A rusty sheet of metal lay propped against a tree nearby. Oliver grabbed it. It had a hole near the top; something to grip to. He lugged Luke onto it, and pulled, moving slowly, deeper through the woods, towards the rendezvous point.

* * *

By noon, Oliver was half way there. He couldn't stop coughing, and his ankle was only becoming more painful and inflamed, but to his luck, most of the walkers were still being attracted away towards the burning house on the hilltop so he was able to take out the few wandering stragglers without too much difficulty. He hadn't come across any more Whisperers, to his relief, but kept a paranoid eye open anyway. Luke was heavy, even with the aid of the metal sheet. Oliver's blisters had long since burst and burst again, and the hole in the sheet was starting to cut into his skin. The pain was terrible. The hair along both his arms was gone totally and some of it on his face and head felt singed and crusty to the touch.

Occasionally, Luke would raise his hand and mumble something incoherent and Oliver would tell him to stay still and keep quiet. He came to a shack, one of the landmarks that meant he was going in the right direction. He stopped and leaned against the wall, catching his breath. Just for a minute. His heart was pumping. His hand was raw, and the rest of his skin stung. It hurt to move at all so he bent forward against his knees and heaved a few coughs towards the ground.

He took his inhaler.

Incoming footsteps startled him. Oliver stood straight, twisting round. A Whisperer ran by, stopping suddenly when it caught sight of Oliver and Luke. Oliver squinted. He knew that leather jacket. He knew that barbed baseball bat.

Negan sighed as Oliver unclipped his mace.

"Alright..." Negan said steadily, backing up as quickly as Oliver approached, "hold— _hold on one second..._"

Oliver marched forward, raising his weapon.

"Don't go and do something stupid, kid!" Negan growled, Lucille twitching in his fist.

"Shut up!" Oliver shouted.

"I can explain..."

"_Stop talking._"

"I am not—"

"Enough of this!"

Walkers were coming from the direction Negan had come from, as if he'd been leading them — herding them. Oliver grimaced. He took a protective step backwards in Luke's direction. He expected Negan to try to run away, or to attack, but he turned to an oncoming walker and swung Lucille through its head. As Negan fought them, a few walkers went around him and headed for Oliver instead. Oliver split one's face open, but struggled with the last. Negan shoved it to the ground, then bludgeoned it to death with Lucille.

Oliver watched it die, relieved, then remembered himself. He limped towards Negan and raised his mace above his head. Negan staggered to his knees, cowering and shouting, "Please, please..."

Oliver didn't know why he didn't bring his mace down on Negan's head. He didn't know why he didn't just end it. Negan had never had any trouble in reversed circumstances. He ended Glenn, and he ended Abraham, and countless others before and after them. Maybe it was the desperate look in Negan's eyes. Maybe it was that he had thrown Lucille to Oliver's feet in surrender. Maybe it was because Negan was right: Had Oliver really grown to see him as a friend?

"Just go!" he shouted down at him, trembling with anger and grief. "And don't come back!"

"Oliver," Negan said, "please, listen to me. It's not all it looks like."

"I'll kill you!"

"You have to trust me."

Oliver grimaced, tears welling. He remembered his and Carol's latest conversation. His chest was vibrating with fear, threatening to shatter his ribcage. Negan rose to his feet, slowly, and Oliver let him. When Negan reached for Lucille, however, Oliver stomped on her with his boot.

"_No. _You don't get that."

"Okay... okay... alright," Negan said breathlessly, "keep her, but give her back — after, alright?"

Oliver wrinkled his nose, confused, and then Negan turned and ran away. Oliver stared, wanting to chase after him, but his knees were weak and he had to clutch his knee as not to collapse. He felt sick. Luke groaned. Oliver went to him. He set Lucille beside him on the metal sheet, grabbed it, and pulled. He had to get to the rendezvous point.

* * *

_Smoke, fire, it's all going up_

_ Don't you know I ain't afraid to shed a little blood?  
Smoke, fire, flares are going up_

_Oh, won't wave my white flag, no  
This time I won't let go  
I'd rather die  
Than give up the fight  
Won't wave my white flag, no  
Oh, I won't go down slow  
I'd rather die_

_White flag never going up, no..._

* * *

**Notes**

Song was "White Flag" by Bishop Briggs.

Scenes involving the burning house was heavily inspired by comic issue 161.

Also anyone who's read the Chaos Walking series will understand the ROAR reference :) I'm almost done with the second book.

THE NEXT CHAPTER IS IN ENID'S POV AND I'M AS EXCITED FOR IT AS I WAS FOR THAT CHAPTER A MILLION YEARS AGO IN CAROL'S POV.

As always,  
Happy reading.


	23. Walk With Us (Enid's POV)

Thanks for taking the time to proof read this once again, _**fandomismylife**_. Means a bunch :)

* * *

_CW: Language __and_ _a lil body horror._

* * *

Adam won't stop crying.

He's so heavy, and—

And for God's sake, he won't stop crying!

"Here," Kelly says, "let me take him."

I hesitate, casting an angry glance behind us at Mary. She's keeping her distance. I narrow my eyes, telling her without words to keep it that way.

"Okay, thanks," I say, putting Adam in Kelly's arms. His cries settle to harsh whimpers. She's calmer than I am, more in tune with her maternal side than me, I guess.

We're heading to the rendezvous point. The woods are thick with smoke being carried in the wind from last night, even after the miles and miles away from Hilltop we've come. We need to keep moving. I tell it to Kelly, but she doesn't say anything back. Why would she? She knows.

She coos to Adam, who is peering out of his bundle of blankets at our surroundings, eyes clumpy with tears and soot. Kelly wipes them clean, shushing him. I wipe my own eyes, rubbing off dregs of sticky sap, dirt, and ash. My clothes are stained in it. I know it because Kelly and Mary's are, too.

"You're good with kids," I tell Kelly, thinking of her ASL lesson yesterday.

"Good enough to stop them from crying, maybe," she says, shrugging, "not much good at making them fall asleep, though. He must be exhausted."

I groan in agreement. "This one afternoon, while Al and I were babysitting, 'cause Tammy was busy in the gardens and Earl was in the Blacksmithery, Al was using this awful, cartoon, baby voice to try to get Adam to sleep. It was awful." I chuckle absently. "Adam hated it."

Kelly snickers. "Nobody likes the creepy baby voice."

Adam whimpers again. Kelly rocks him gently in her arms.

"I can help."

All my thoughts sour like milk. I twist around, curling my lip enough it hurts the healing cartilage in my nose. Mary takes the hint, stepping back, like some submissive dog. I'd chase her off with a broom if I had one.

"I'm... I'm just saying. I can help, with my nephew."

"Yeah?" I ask, faking a smile. "Well... who the fuck asked you?"

Mary raises her eyebrows.

"Come on," Kelly complains to me, taking a small step over to her. "She knows him."

Without a word, I snatch Adam out of her arms and walk away. He begins screaming instantly. I shush him, my breath catching, tears welling and falling. I didn't see Earl after the fires started, and I didn't see where the other children went either, and I lost Daryl and Oliver, and then Kelly and Mary found me and Adam in the woods this afternoon, and now — oh, God... he won't stop crying.

"Try rubbing the back of his h—"

"I thought I told you to be quiet!" I shout at her, barely not sobbing. Adam jumps, then howls a long, brain-bursting screech. Kelly searches around us, worried we're attracting walkers or worse. I try to calm myself. I look at Mary, at her two, dull, blue eyes, and gritting my teeth, I tell her, "I let you tag along for _your _sake, not ours. Now, _step back..._"

She does.

We keep moving.

* * *

Walkers find us soon, attracted by Adam's cries. Kelly takes him for me, doing well to settle him while Mary and I put down a few of the dead that get too close. We find a small, overhanging embankment at the foot of a clearing, where we hide out of sight in hopes that the cluster will pass us. Minutes go by, then an hour, where the only movement we make is breathing and blinking, pinning ourselves to the bank and preying Adam will remain silent in Kelly's arms.

By the time it's dark, we've lost count of how many clusters have passed by, coming from one direction then the next. Every time we think we're in the clear and begin climbing from the embankment, another cluster shows up. I look at Kelly for answers, but she seems as confused as me. I try not to dwell on it too much. I'm just glad she's managed to keep Adam quiet — following Mary's instruction about rubbing his head which I'm only privately furious about. It's a relief that Mary is smart enough not to look at me this whole time, or speak to us.

"It's too dark to keep moving," I whisper to Kelly, watching as another cluster disappears off through the trees. "We'll have to camp here tonight. It'll be cold. We can't risk lighting a fire. One of us will have to stay awake. We'll do shifts. I'll go first."

Kelly grits her teeth and shakes her head at me. "You know, we would have been at the rendezvous point by now if you'd just given the kid to her from the start."

I don't even look at her. I just glare ahead and whisper, "She and her people left him for dead. She and her people killed my family. She's not touching him."

Kelly tuts, then continues to coo to Adam.

I look around us —ignoring Mary entirely— realising the coast is clear, so rising to my feet. "Here, Mary, help me build some cover— Hey, I said help me? What are you looking at?"

She's twitching her head around, left to right, twisting in her seat, looking up the bank, and down, like she's caught a scent.

"_What?_" I hiss again.

She looks at me, suddenly, and says, "Someone's coming."

I snatch my bow, looking around, but not seeing anything. "What? Who?"

"I've seen this before," Mary warns, not answering me, "the cluster."

"Clusters," I correct.

"No," she says, "it's the same Guardians. He knows how to control them. He can make them cover every square foot if he wants to."

"Mary..."

"He's herding them at us," she mutters, spinning on the spot, "trying to draw us out of hiding."

"_Who __is__?_"

"I'm so stupid," she says over me, talking quick and grabbing a handful of her matted hair. "I'm so stupid. I should have realised. _I should have realised._"

"Realised what?" Kelly asks, gripping her knives, eyes scanning the trees around us. "Who are you talking about, man?"

"Beta," Mary answers, out of breath from just standing there with the thought of him filling her head. She clasps a hand over her mouth, eyes wide in panic. "He followed Adam's cries. He knew I would be with him. He must've lost our tracks after the cluster came through, but he's made it this close, it's only a matter of time before he... Oh, God, I've put you all in danger. _I'm so stupid!_"

I think hard, searching around us for any movement. "If we stay here long enough, maybe he'll miss us. Maybe he'll move them on."

Mary shakes her head. "He won't stop until I'm dead. He'll find me. He'll kill us all."

"Well he's not here yet," Kelly says, "so he's still looking for us, right?"

Mary looks at her, huffing uncertainly. "Yeah. I mean, we're alive."

A twig snaps in the distance. We all swivel around to it, forgetting to breathe. Adam starts to fuss so Kelly pulls him close. A walker emerges through the fog, then several more. I draw my bowstring.

"No!" Mary whispers. "He'll know we're here."

"But they're coming right at us."

Mary notices this, too, her eyes widening. "Oh, God. Oh, God, I was right."

The walkers spot us under the moonlight, growling their terrible growls.

Disguising the man hunting us.

"Run," I say.

We hurry through the woods, our destination on the rendez—

"No! He'll follow us there," Mary pants. "He'll kill everyone."

Adam beings to cry again. I suck in air through my teeth, forcing the panic away.

"Alright," I huff. "Quick, this way. I have a plan."

And I take a sharp left.

* * *

As we go, Mary confirms my suspicions that Beta can only go as fast as the walkers; if he were to start running, he'd be noticed and eaten. "Or worse," Mary says, "he'd have to kill the Guardians." I explain my plan to them as we run, managing to get far enough ahead, where we find a national trail-walk park that I've ridden through on Blondie hundreds of times before. I run to a dusty old van in the otherwise deserted parking lot while Kelly and Mary run on ahead and hide in the small restroom block.

Kelly glances back at me before they go inside, and signs something I can guess from the context means, "_Good luck."_

I nod, signing one of the only things I remember from her lesson yesterday, bringing my four fingers to my chin and gesturing them out as, _"Thank you,"_ and once they've locked themselves in the restroom, I throw myself under the van and watch the direction the walkers and Beta will come from. My mom's blade is still sharp, the varnish handle smooth in my grip.

And then it begins to rain.

For minutes, all I can hear is Adam's cries and the low patter of the raindrops hitting the earth, slowly transforming the dry dirt beyond the cover of the van into wet, gloopy mud. I spend all my time praying the weather will drown out any other noise, praying that Kelly will settle Adam before it's too late, and finally, thankfully, the restroom block falls quiet and the darkness is filled with only the sounds of raindrops and cricket calls.

Too soon, I hear distant growls through the woods.

I see them under the moonlight, shambling through the rain streaked fog and trees. The dead begin crossing the parking lot. I search for Beta in the crowd, realising I forgot to ask Mary what he looks like. Oliver never mentioned his appearance either, and Isaac only said Beta was Alpha's second in command. I wonder if he was there in the barn where Alden and Tammy Rose were killed. I wonder if he killed them, or just held them down as his Alpha severed their heads from their shoulders. I wonder if he would even remember their faces.

Finally, the cluster begins to thin, leaving just a few stragglers, lost in the dark and falling behind the rest as they continue on the way Beta led them. I almost climb out from cover, wanting to take out the last few left and get the others before Beta turns back, but then I notice one walker.

Built like a grizzly bear.

Standing perfectly still.

Watching me.

His fresh eyes glisten dully in the moonlight and my heart rises to my throat, gagging me. I can't even blink. Does he see me? It'd be impossible. It's too dark, and although I'm watching him from under the van, I'm hidden behind tufts of long grass.

Still, slowly, he walks towards me.

I resist all urge to scramble out and run. I almost shut my eyes, too terrified to watch, and then he's here. I see just his thick black boots, shuffling in the mud as he grabs the van door handle and wrenches it open, slamming it back so loudly and suddenly that I almost yelp. Running on impulse and adrenaline, I push myself closer, knife gripped. It would only take one deep swipe at his Achilles heel; one loud snap, and it would be over for him. It would be.

Only fear stops me. Fear roots me to the dirt. Trapping me there.

He leans into the van, his immense weight and size sinking it, threatening to squash me. Then finally, he climbs out of the van and walks away. I swear silently, furious, and then, in relent, I allow the relief to set in. We can get away now. We can focus on finding the others again.

And then I am dragged by the ankles out from under the van.

My bow, caught against the underside of the vehicle, is ripped off over my shoulders. Mud slathers my face and front. Sheer panic overtakes me as Beta twists me onto my back and kneels down to me, so huge he's like a giant, about to eat me whole. He snatches me around my jaw with one dustbin lid-sized hand, cutting off my scream, and with his other arm, blocks my thrashing arms and legs. I manage to swing my knife at his chest, then his arm, and blood spurts from his jacket and spills in thin streams down the black leather. But he doesn't even wince. It's as though he doesn't notice. He doesn't feel pain. He just holds me down harder, burying me, his yellow teeth baring furiously, spitting through his teeth as he growls in my face. He steals my mom's knife without effort, throwing it aside. And then, as if I weigh nothing at all, he takes me by the base of my ponytail and pulls, raising my head, sitting me up, making me stand, and then lifting me off my Goddamn feet.

The pain is blinding.

I scream.

God, I just have to scream.

And then, louder than any man should be able, he roars.

Like a mother fucking animal, Beta fucking roars.

As I dangle there like a dying thing, squealing in pain with my boots a foot off the ground, I hear him unsheathe his knife. I gasp in horror. I kick out furiously, punching him and crying out. He raises his blade. I clench my eyes shut.

"Stop!" Kelly shouts, bursting out of the restroom block with Mary trapped unconvincingly in her headlock; in Kelly's other fist, her knife is shaking. She puts it against Mary's temple.

I can hear Adam's wails from inside the restroom. I have to shut my eyes again. Rain and mud and tears fall down my face. I can only think of the pain, turning my vision white. My scalp is on fire. Beta grimaces as I dig my fingernails into his fist, scraping off the thick, calloused skin there in an attempt to force him to let go. I start to grab at other things. His jacket. His shoulder. My hair. He shakes me off like some damp rag doll.

"Let her go!" Mary screams. "Or she'll kill me!"

"R— Right. Y— Yeah. I will!" Kelly stutters, the whites of her eyes shining under the cloudy moonlight.

Beta tilts his head, watching me hang from his knuckles.

As he looks back at the others, I hear him laugh.

And in a deep, bone-rattling growl, he says, "_Y__our__ trick__s__ won't work t__his time__..._"

I'm about to die. I know it as he opens his mouth to roar again, raising his blade to plunge it through my ribcage. I have no bow but I still reach for it anyway. I don't know why. But it's the only thing I can think of. I snatch an arrow from my quiver, which, unlike my bow, managed to stay on my back, and in an instant, I plunge it through Beta's face. I watch it puncture his cheek, feel it penetrate through the thick muscle of his tongue, and I catch the sight of the arrow head sticking out through the bottom of jaw, dripping with blood that looks black in the grey night-light, before he growls out a cry and throws me several feet away.

I land against the van with a loud bang, collapsing to my hands and knees in the wet mug. Enraged, Beta runs at me. I scream, and then, out of nowhere, he staggers back as Kelly's knife dives through his right shoulder. Then Mary has snatched my mom's knife from the ground and she's sprinting at him, at this man who is a hundred times her size, at this man who is a thousand times her strength, and with a war cry, she sinks the blade through Beta's chest.

And he sinks his own through her stomach.

"No!" Kelly screams.

I see Mary gasp, staring down, then up, grimacing. Beta leans close to her, ignoring her attempts to beat her fists against his chest, and he whispers, "_You... __Will..._ _Walk..._ _With… __Us..._"

"Never!" Mary cries, scratching him across the face and tearing off one side of his mask.

The sight of his face brings me to my senses. Reaching under the van, I grab my bow, and without time to stand, I send an arrow through Beta's thigh. He growls in pain and staggers back a step, dropping Mary, who collapses to the mud on her back. He tries to snatch his knife from her, but I shoot another arrow, aiming for his head. It embeds through his bicep. He grunts in pain, glares at me, then turns and runs away, quicker than a man built like a tower should be able. I pull my bowstring. My arrow punctures him through the shoulder-blade. He buckles, but manages to keep on his feet, running away through the black woods, shoving aside walkers that are coming back, attracted to our noise. I aim past their heads, trying to get a clear shot, but it's too dark and I'm not quick enough...

And Beta is gone.

I drop my arms, horrified and wincing and out of breath, still sitting against the van in the mud, like some broken toy. It hurts to crawl over to Mary. She's gasping in pain, gripping the knife in her gut, tugging weakly.

"Don't pull it out," I mutter, managing to push her hands away, "it's the only thing stopping you from bleeding out."

She just sobs. "Maybe... that's for... the best."

She's going into shock so I take off my coat and sweater and place them over her chest and waist.

"Enid," Kelly cries, running back from the restroom with a screaming Adam clutched in her arms. "The geeks."

I tell Mary to lie still, and to try to stay awake, then retrieve my knife from where she'd dropped it. I'll never know where I find the strength to stand. The first walker is fresher than any I've dealt with for a long time. I'm not ready for it when it lunges at me, sending me to the floor with it landing hard on my chest. I cry out, winded and struggling to keep its mouth away.

"Kelly! Help!"

She puts Adam in the van and shuts the door, then runs to help me, pulling the walker off. I kick its knee in and, as it goes down, Kelly stabs it through the soft part at the base of it's neck.

It takes all our effort to keep the dead away from Mary and the van. I'm still so distraught and distracted by pain that Kelly has to save my life again when another walker knocks me to the ground. She caves its skull in under her boot. I don't know how we manage it, but somehow we're both still standing by the time I crush the last walker's face in under a rock. The rest must've followed Beta into the woods, the smell of his blood breaking their illusion.

And somehow.

God, somehow, we are all still alive.

Just.

I stagger to my feet, covered in blood and mud and rain, totally exhausted. I return to Mary. She's still lying there, breathing quick and shallow, in a shallow pool of blood and mud.

"We have to go," I croak, wiping clumpy blood and rain out of my eyes.

"Are you okay?" Kelly argues, a handful of arrows in her quiver that she's retrieved for me from the various dead around us.

I nod. "Come on. She won't make it if we wait."

She helps me find something to carry her, which ends up being a thin, plywood door from one of the restroom cubicles. We break it off after a few hard kicks, then, carefully, we lift Mary onto it. She begs us to leave her. I put Adam in the narrow gap between her legs and tell her, over his screams, to focus on keeping him there, secure between her knees.

She shuts her eyes and nods, then reaches down for him, and at the same time Adam raises his small arm out to her, and they touch, and he grips her shaking, bloody thumb in his wet, little fist, and Mary sobs, and smiles.

"Shh," she tells him, "shh..."

And Adam falls quiet, and his eyes begin to droop.

I watch them for a moment, amazed, then carefully, I cover Adam's tiny face with the corner of his blanket to protect him from the weather. Their hands are still entwined as Kelly and I lift the door. Mary's blood spills slowly over the edge, soaking mine and Kelly's hands and the blanket Adam is wrapped in.

Eventually the rain stops, and the moon is high in the middle of the clear night sky, and we haven't seen a walker for miles, and Mary is still alive, somehow.

I'm planning how I'm going to get her to survive this once we get to the rendezvous point when I see a landmark: a thick-rooted, marked, willow tree, that means we're getting close.

"Hey," Kelly says, "did you get a look at Beta's face? It was like... I recognised him from somewhere."

I don't say anything, instead blowing away the sweaty hair stuck to my face.

"He looked like that singer..." Kelly says. "Half Moon."

"Yeah, now you mention it," I say, adjusting my blistered hands.

Weakly, Mary laughs, her thumb still held gently in her nephew's sleepy grip. "Knew his voice... was familiar," she says.

"Shh," I tell her. "Rest."

"Imagine that," she whimpers, managing a chuckle. "Getting stabbed to death by a Goddamn rock star."

"You're not dead yet," I tell her. "Now, save your strength. We're almost there."

* * *

_Fuck a princess, I'm a king  
__Bow down and kiss on my ring  
It's gonna hurt, it'll sting  
Spitting your blood in the sink_

_I'm crazy, but you like that  
I bite back, daisies on your nightstand  
Never forget, I blossom in the moonlight  
Screw eyes, glacial with the blue ice  
I'm terrifying_

* * *

**Notes**

Song was Daisy by Ashnikko. I kept it to the end because I felt like, in the off chance that you'd decide to put it on at the beginning, it would be distracting and contradictory for the feel of the chapter as a whole. It's a kind of fast/bratty/girl power sort of song, and to me, has some really good vibes that I think fit Enid's mentality right now. Like she's just sort of lost all her fucks to give, and she just got the shit beat out of her, and she's ready to kill; I just picture her basically as the human embodiment of a violent earthquake rn lol

Felt weird that Beta in the show was following Mary all night and didn't just straight up try to murder Alden, Kelly, and Adam himself, so I wrote some scuffles. I also almost didn't even write this chapter, and first just skipped this arc. Thank you, _fandomismylife_, for planting the idea for an Enid pov chapter in my head.

The scene where Enid was pulled out from under the van was inspired by that one time I was playing TLOU2 as Ellie, hiding under a bed, thinking I was smart as shit, and some fucking gross-ass WLF just drags me on out from under there. Scared the everliving shite out of me. Good times. Also just finished that game for the second time and shit was way sadder/better this go around.

If anyone is wondering why Enid is trying to help Mary despite hating her, I figured she's a doctor, something she finally re-enstated to Daryl last chapter, so she basically has taken an oath at this point to save as many lives as she possibly can. Attacking Whisperers excluded lol

As always,  
happy reading.


	24. Look at the Flowers, Pt 1: Blood Clouds

_Thanks once again to **fandomismylife **for helping me out with this chapter! Check out their stories!_

* * *

When Oliver arrived at the rendezvous point in the afternoon, several more surviving Hilltoppers were waiting for him. A few of them took Luke off his diced-up hand, lifting him from the metal sheet and carrying him off inside the overgrown farmhouse, while Jerry stayed back to examine Oliver's injuries. Some of the horses, Traveller included, were tethered at hitching posts nearby, covered in ash and mud; someone must've let them loose sometime during the fight.

"Oliver!" Carol cried suddenly, bursting out of the house. She threw her arms around his shoulders. "I'm so glad you're okay. I saw you fighting. I couldn't get to you. You fought so well."

"So did you," he said, gasping in pain into her shoulder. As he pulled away he saw the bruise on her mouth. She was already fussing over the cuts and blisters on his hand, then she froze. Oliver followed her shocked gaze down to the metal sheet that he'd dragged Luke in on, and lying against it, Negan's barbedwire baseball bat. Before Oliver could explain himself, Carol folded the sheet over to hide it.

"Come inside," she said to him.

In the house, she got Oliver water and a bruised apple, then cleaned and bandaged his hand as he sat contently eating and drinking on a dusty couch. When she was finished, Carol took off Oliver's glasses for him and cleaned them on the hem of her shirt. When she put them back on his face, Oliver looked around the room properly, seeing clearly now without a layer of soot blocking his view.

To his surprise, Magna was sitting in a chair across the room, covered in guts and looking traumatised. She must've escaped the cave, although Connie was not with her. Oliver cast her a nod which she returned glumly.

There, too, was Siddiq, with his broken wrist in a sling, tending to Luke's head injury with the prematurely stashed medical equipment. Quan, also, was recovering from his burns asleep on a couch. Others had made it, too, like Rosita, and Nabila and her children, and Eugene, and Yumiko, Dianne, Ezekiel, and the rest of the children. Enid wasn't around. Nor was her apprentice, Alex, or Earl, or Adam, or Mary, or Kelly, or Aaron. Not Oscar, or Marco, or Brianna, or Papa Bear, or Daryl.

Suddenly, Judith and RJ ran through the living room door and leaped into Oliver's arms. Despite the sting from his injuries, he held them close. Judith told him through hiccups that Earl and Ezekiel got them out, but that Earl had not made it.

When the attention on them died down, Oliver set Judith and RJ on the couch, then got up. Discretely, he pulled Carol aside and whispered to her, "Negan was out there, wearing a mask."

"I know."

Oliver blinked. He'd expected at least some sense of shock from her, at least.

Impatiently, Carol asked, "Did you kill him?"

Oliver watched her, frowning. "I... wait, was I supposed to?"

Carol's eyes shifted between his. "No."

"Well, good," he said, exasperated, "because I didn't."

She nodded clinically. "Thank you."

Then walked out of the room.

"Wait," Oliver said, weaving through the crowded house after her. "Carol, wait, where are you going?"

"To find him. He should be done by now, _or he better be_. Come on," she said, outside now, "take me to where you last saw him."

So Oliver did.

* * *

Negan was waiting for them at the shack.

Henry's staff sat propped on his shoulder and a bloody sack dumped at his feet.

"Ah," he said, "figured this would be the first place you'd think to look for me."

Oliver meant to ask where he got the staff, but Carol spoke over him.

"That it?" she asked, standing several yards away from him, pointing to the sack, something bustling in her voice.

"Yup," Negan answered. "As promised..."

He bent and retrieved the sack from the ground. It dripped thick and brown. And it growled. Realisation dawned on Oliver. He bristled at Carol's side, heart vibrating, watching as Negan opened the bloody sack and flicked his wrist.

Alpha's head hit the ground before him.

With a light kick, Negan rolled it across the undergrowth so that it stopped at Carol's shoes. Oliver stared down at it, his skin prickling. Alpha glared up at him, teeth snapping, eyes glazed.

Carol raised her head slowly to look at Negan again. "Took you long enough..."

His smile faded to a frown. "Wasn't this what you wanted?"

She nodded, but looked disappointed. Alpha's head hissed up at her from the ground. Carol glanced at it, tears welling, then looked away again.

"Alright," Negan said, hands in his pockets and his shoulders hunched, "what do you, uh, say we get moving? Alexandria? Our deal? Let's start spreading the news."

Again, Carol asked, "What took you so damn _long_?"

"What took me— I was doing _your_ dirty work!" Negan shouted. "I dunno, I guess I wanted to get out of there with my head still attached. Shit like that takes time!"

"I told you to do it _fast_!" Carol said, hiccuping.

"It's done, alright? I held up my end, now I'm asking you to hold up yours. Just walk me through those gates so I can open up a new chapter in the book of Negan." He raised his arms hopefully, Henry's staff tipping.

"That Lydia's," Oliver said finally.

Negan faltered, and in an admitting tone, said, "I had to use her as bait. I locked her in a shack a couple miles away."

"Take us to her," Carol said. "If she's safe, we'll give you what you want."

* * *

Within an hour Negan had led them to a large field of tall grass that looked straight out of a horror novel. Humming insects leaped out of their way as they waded towards a small cabin. Once there, Negan stepped up onto the porch, flashing Carol and Oliver a wink as he opened the door and stepped inside.

"Hey, kiddo, I'm sorry about the — _aw, __shit..._"

The chair before him was empty, loops of undone rope laying on the floor around the legs.

Then, out of nowhere, a crossbow collided with the side of Negan's face.

He hit the floor so hard that, from above, handfuls of dust fell from the shack ceiling.

Negan groaned.

Daryl aimed at his face. "_Where's Alpha?!_"

"Daryl!" Carol said.

Oliver grabbed Negan and pulled him to sit up.

Daryl glared at them all, crossbow wavering. "What the—"

"Alpha — she's dead," Carol told him. "He killed her."

Daryl's dark eyes took her and Oliver in, confused and angry. "Like Hell he did!"

Carol pulled the sack open and showed Daryl its contents. Alpha snarled from within. Daryl stepped back from it and paced a few times around the room.

Negan grunted, cradling his forehead as he looked up at him. "The whole reason I threw in with them was so I could get close to Alpha. Close enough to slit her throat. Talk about silencing the whisperers, right? _I _silenced the Alpha."

"You believe this shit?" Daryl asked Carol and Oliver. "You believe one of hers didn't just step up and get it done and he didn't take the credit?"

"I let him out," Carol answered. "We made a deal."

Daryl glared at her, then his eyes shifted to Negan. "Sure took your sweet ass time."

"What is it with you guys thinking I didn't do it fast enough?" Negan asked. "_You_ didn't kill her. _I did! _It took a minute. I had to get her to trust me. Because I wasn't on a suicide mission!"

"Nah," Daryl growled, "it's because you _liked_ it."

Negan glared at him, then shut his eyes and sighed.

"Enough of this," Carol said. "We came to find Lydia. But she's gone, so no deal."

"Come on!" Negan complained, panic in his eyes. "It's not my fault she ran!"

"She was scared of you," Oliver accused. "_She __thought you were her__ friend._"

"She was scared of her _mother_," Negan argued, "who would have _killed_ her had I not done what I did!"

Oliver shook his head, not because he wasn't grateful for Negan's actions, but because he wasn't ready for Negan to know he was yet. Oliver turned to Carol.

"We have to go," he said, to which Carol gave a short nod.

"Go where?" Daryl asked.

"The border," Oliver answered.

"Wait, why?"

Oliver ushered them all outside. "The Whisperers need to know their leader is dead."

* * *

The nearest border was around a couple hour's walk away. The sun was setting. Angry grey clouds were approaching slowly from the distant horizon. As they travelled, Oliver asked Negan —who'd been following them like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs— what had happened to Brandon.

It was a short story: Brandon caught up with Negan outside of Alexandria a few weeks ago, right after Carol had let him loose, and that even though Negan already knew that Brandon was a weird kind of guy, as well as his main prison guard for the last handful of years, still, Brandon gave him back his old jacket and even crafted him a new Lucille, so Negan let him stick around.

"We met two survivors along the way," he explained, "a mom and her kid. Brandon wanted to rob them, so I kicked him out. Decided, before I got things started with Alpha, I'd get the mom and kid to Alexandria..."

At this, Carol glanced around at him, annoyed. Negan sighed apologetically, but carried on with his story.

"So, later the same day, while I was out collecting some timber for camp, Brandon came back." He rubs his mouth, walking with his head down for a few moments. "He murdered them, the mom and kid. By the time I got back to camp, it was already over. And Brandon was there, whistling that old whistle. Must'a learned it from his pa all those years ago... He thought I'd be pleased. He thought it was all just a test, to prove himself... to prove..."

"We are all Negan..." Daryl grumbled, eyes narrow. He spat on the ground, causing Negan to jolt to a stop to avoid being hit.

He sighed again and said, "I killed him. Bludgeoned him to death with a rock, alright?"

"Yeah," Daryl said, tutting as he turned and walked on again, "alright."

Carol followed him, too.

Negan wiped his eye. Wet came off on his wrist. Oliver pretended not to see it, and instead walked around him and headed after the others.

* * *

Finally at the border, with the shallow moon as their only light flitting in and out of the clouds, Carol went and mounted Alpha's head on a spike. Blood dribbled down her forearms, dripping off her elbows. Alpha hissed down at her, eyes spinning.

Carol stood and stared up at her. She still had that disappointed look on her face. Oliver suspected he knew why — she'd been pining for this moment since the fair massacre, Connie had died for Carol's mistakes. Oliver guessed that standing there now, finally achieving her goal, after everything it had costed... the revenge didn't live up to her expectations.

Negan stepped forward, looking smaller than he really was — an odd trick he had; one Oliver guessed he must've taught himself during all those years in his cell. In a timid voice, the old man asked, "Are you gonna stick to our deal, Carol?"

Instantly, Daryl twisted round and aimed his crossbow at Negan's mouth. Negan reeled backwards in shock, hands up in surrender. Carol and Oliver watched.

"Go," Daryl growled at him.

"But I killed her!" Negan argued, and flinched when Daryl roared, "GET!" in his face, and as Negan dropped his head in relent, suddenly there were footsteps, and out of nowhere five Whisperers appeared from the trees. They raised their machetes and knives. One of them had a sawn-off shotgun in hand.

"Alpha is dead because of you," Negan was told by the one with the shotgun, who then glanced at his four friends and added, "we kneel to the _new_ Alpha!"

The five of them knelt.

Negan watched them, then burst into a fit of laughter. After several moments, he calmed down enough and leaned back into his hips, and with a lazy point towards Daryl, Carol, and Oliver, said, "Tie them up, boys."

They were stripped of their weapons. Carol and Daryl's hands were bound.

"This one's only got one."

"Oh, don't be fooled. He's a real trickster," Negan leered. "Trust me. Leave his hand, but check his pockets. His boots. _His socks._"

"We already checked him."

"_Check again!_"

They did as told, leaving Oliver barefooted in the grass with four out-turned pockets and his few belongings, like his mace, knife, and inhaler kicked across the ground. The shotgun was aimed at him, trapping him to the spot without bounds while Negan paced in front of them with that shit-eating grin on his face.

"Oh, I am sorry," he said. "I'm just savouring the moment. Taking my sweet ass time."

Oliver glared, gritting his teeth.

Negan winked menacingly, cackling, then turned to his Whisperers. "Alright, fellas. First order of business — wait, wait, wait one damn minute. I'm supposed to be the Alpha, right? I'm only asking because I'm a little bit confused. See, if I'm the Alpha, why is someone who is most definitely _not_ the Alpha, holding the badass shotgun?"

After a small moment's hesitation, the Whisperer handed it over.

"_That_ is what I'm talking about!" Negan cheered. "That feels good, doesn't it? I mean, I never had a kid of my own but if I did, I would imagine this is what it's like holding your baby for the first time, except it turns out _my baby_ can kill people by _spitting bullets at 'em!_"

He grimaced, then aimed, one at a time, at Daryl, Carol, and Oliver.

"If you please. Kneel to the Alpha."

For a moment they shuffled and glared. Daryl shrugged off one of the Whisperer's pulling him by the shoulders, then knelt on his own. Carol and Oliver knelt, too. Oliver had nothing to say, nothing else to feel. There was no turning back now. No exceptions. The old man in front of him was already dead.

A great, dark cloud cracked overhead.

And then it began to rain.

"Damn," Negan said, aiming his shotgun, "it is starting to get real now, ain't it? Daryl, you were right when you said that I _liked_ it. Fact is, I like it a lot."

Daryl glared up at the barrel aimed at his nose. "You should probably shoot me..."

"Don't threaten me with a good time," Negan said, then swung his arm to his right and shot the nearest Whisperer — a pink cloud of blood burst from her head. Daryl fell to the side, shocked only for a second before he kicked the closest Whisperer to him through the shin. Oliver, too, threw his head back and hit the crotch of the guy behind him, who let out a howl of pain and bent forward. Oliver threw his head forward then, hitting the Whisperer through the nose, causing him to fall aside in a series of curses and yelps. Negan tried to shoot him but his shotgun jammed. He swore, then stabbed another Whisperer through the chest. The remaining three took off running. Daryl, Carol, and Oliver stumbled to their feet, damp under the downpour and out of breath, looking around in shock.

Oliver hobbled over to Carol and untied her hands, mud sticking between his toes.

Daryl held out his wrists to Negan.

"Untie me, asshole!" he demanded.

* * *

By the time they got back to the rendezvous point it had stopped raining and the night sky was clear and starry. Negan was kept on heavy guard while the rest of them grabbed some dry clothes and waited for more people to show up. Oliver finally got some sleep, but woke up a little while after midnight when Enid arrived with Kelly, carrying some kind of make-do stretcher with Adam and a limp, bloody Mary laying across it, who had a large knife sticking out of her stomach through her flannel shirt.

Despite her exhaustion, Enid stayed up all night with Siddiq stitching Mary's stomach back together again.

Lydia, Aaron, Oscar, Marco, and Papa Bear appeared after that, too. The latter had a deep gash across his left eye that Oliver had to cover RJ's eyes from, but Papa Bear paid his injury little attention in favour of making sure Quan was alright. Quan, who seemed to be coping well with his bandaged-up burns, eventually persuaded Papa Bear to treat his face, in fear of the old man's eyeball tumbling out of its socket.

Even Scab had found her way to them eventually, sulking around outside the house in the early dawn sunlight, in such a nasty mood that even Oliver couldn't get anywhere near her. He did, however, fill a small bowl with water and leave it on a nearby rock for her to drink if she wished. He then took the remaining water in his canteen over to the porch, where Daryl was guarding Negan. He gave Daryl the canteen. He drank and handed it back. Dubiously, Oliver passed his canteen to Negan, who drank gratefully.

Oliver looked at his hand. He didn't have any fingerprints. They'd been burned away. His palm was still bandaged, and ached when he pressed it to his kneecap.

Negan handed the canteen to Daryl, who passed it up to Oliver. He clipped it to his belt loop. He took his inhalers. He could see, over by the horses, Lydia, sitting on the fence avoiding everyone. Oliver tried to talk to her, to explain how they'd gone to find her earlier, but she'd asked him to leave her alone so he had. At least she had a little company with the horses. Even Scab, who was sitting across from her in a tree, ignoring the water bowl Oliver had provided, was sussing out whether or not Lydia was worth her time. She must've been, because after several minutes Scab sat by her side and headbutted Lydia's hip consolingly.

Negan saw their exchange, too, then noticed Oliver watching him. Oliver didn't know what to say to him, so looked away. He heard Negan sigh.

"When I said that I liked it," he said quietly, "it wasn't part of the act."

Daryl nodded. "Yeah. We know."

Negan sighed. "When your people locked me up, I lost everything. Seven years spent staring at that little window. Man it sucked. It got so bad that even my memories had bars painted on them. So when Alpha took me in, I admit it, I liked it. It was nice feeling like I mattered again, like I was respected, but she took it too far. You don't kill people who don't deserve it. You don't let your women and children, and even your _men_, get raped on the daily... and you _never_ kill kids."

Oliver scoffed, leaning against the wall with his lousy leg up to rest. "You're a hypocrite and a liar. You tried to kill me when I was sixteen years old, and Carl. You _bombed _Alexandria when you knew kids were inside. And what about Glenn? And Abraham? They didn't deserve what you did to them."

"No," Negan argued calmly. "Those two killed my men in their sleep. That was why we held that line up in the first place, to teach — hey, and you know what? Carl tricked me that day. Made me fall under the impression that you had evacuated all the children _before_ I started bombing up the place. And I was _never_ going to kill you, _or_ him. The threats, and the fear I tried to instil, it was all part of the play."

Oliver shook his head and laughed.

"Hey..." Negan said, very slowly. "I was always going to let you and Carl _both_ live, _together_, with Judith, and whoever else knelt to me. I was always going to give you that — _rug__c__k!_"

It happened so quickly. Like instinct. Oliver had marched around Daryl and punched Negan through the face as hard as he could. It sent Negan reeling backwards against the house and slumping to his hands and knees.

Daryl, who had deliberately not stepped in until now, grabbed Oliver by the arm and pulled him back. Negan's nose was bleeding. Oliver was wound up like a turbine. He couldn't face any possibility, even for a second, of him and Carl being together all this time, after everything he'd lost, _and was still loosing_. It was too much. And it was too late. He couldn't stand facing the notion that there was something else that he could have done to prevent it all.

Oliver shook Daryl off. He was shaking. He could see Lydia watching them, so forced himself to calm down.

"_You disgust me,_" he hissed finally.

Negan nodded miserably. "I know..."

"You're a liar, and a murderer, and a rapist," Oliver went on, voice low.

"I am _not_ a rapist!"

"You forced your 'wives' to marry you."

"I never tolerated that kind of violence towards—"

"You did," Oliver spat. "They never had a choice. You've told me so yourself."

Negan seemed to think about this. He seemed to dislike the thoughts it brought him because he winced. Oliver was glad. Negan deserved this guilt and worse, even after all these years. There were some things that people never deserved to move past. Some things that could never be forgiven.

Daryl, on the other hand, shook his head at them both. Oliver knew why. He knew it was a mute argument. One that could never truly be resolved.

Oliver took a steep breath, then went inside with a pit in his chest.

He pushed it away.

By now, Enid and Siddiq were finished performing what they could of surgery on Mary's stomach with the little tools they had, and had even managed to patch up Papa Bear's mangled eye. Now they were simply watching over their patients, waiting, while Mary lay in her own corner of the room bound by her wrist to the radiator in case she reanimated.

Enid was falling asleep, not noticing Oliver approach. Oliver squeezed her shoulder. She jolted in her chair, then recognised him through her sleepy haze and smiled wanly. They hadn't had a chance to greet each other yet. Enid's eyes were wet. Someone must've told her about Earl. She reached out. Oliver knelt down and held her in his arms, gently kissing the dirty skin under her ear.

"You did amazing," he whispered.

She didn't reply, just squeezed.

"Want me to take over watching her for you?" Oliver offered, pulling away.

Enid rubbed her eyes, then gasped when she bumped her nose with her knuckle. "Ouch. Uh, no. Thanks. I got it." She sat up straight, wincing a little. "Could you help me change my bandage, though?"

Oliver nodded, so Enid retrieved a clean bandage and medical tape from a messy box at her side. Oliver pulled up a chair beside her. She took off her nose bandage. It was coated in mud and sweat. She tossed it aside. Now that the swelling had gone down, Enid broken nose looked more crooked than Oliver remembered it. Her nostrils had two bloody rings around them, and she had a nasty, deep cut running across the bent bridge of her nose.

Oliver must've looked sympathetic, because she looked away.

"I know. I'm going to look like a freak from now on," she said, covering it with her hand insecurely.

"You won't look like a freak," Oliver said, pulling her hand down so that he could gently wipe away some of her blood with a wet rag, "sei bellissima."

She smiled, then shrugging. "I don't know. Big, crooked noses aren't very beautiful."

Oliver looked at her suddenly, mid-way through cutting a clean bandage into the right size. He didn't realise Enid would understand that. Had she understood some of the other things he told her in Italian as well? He cleared his throat, trying no to seem too embarrassed.

"Try to keep still," he said.

He got her patched up, then began tidying up the spare bandage and tape.

"I fought him," she said finally, "Beta."

Oliver winced. He could barely believe it. "I heard. I heard you won."

"Barely. I... I froze. I could have, but... He was so..." She trailed off.

"Yeah," he said softly, "I know."

Enid sighed, wincing as she rubbed the top of her head. "I'm going to finish it, next time. I'm not going to freeze again. I owe it — to Earl, to Tammy... to Alden."

Oliver didn't like imagining a next time.

He hugged her, then he went to find somewhere to rest. Most of the others were still sleeping around the house, so Oliver was quiet as he found a big enough space on the floor in the living room between Yumiko and Carol, where he laid down with his jacket under his head.

Quan was lying on a couch nearby, awake but not getting up yet. He glanced at Oliver and waved with his unburned hand. Oliver flipped him the bird, then dropped his forearm over his eyes to block the sunlight. He heard Quan huff a weak chuckle. Oliver let himself smile, too.

"Glad you didn't burn to death," he admitted.

Quan hummed his agreement. "Thanks, man."

Oliver sighed and tried to switch off his whirring mind, to slow down his thoughts so that he could focus on the day ahead, but passed out before he managed it.

* * *

**Notes**

Be gay, do crime. All cops are bastards. Black Lives Matter.

As always,  
Happy reading.


	25. Look at the Flowers, Pt 2: Pennsylvania

**fandomismylife **Oliver and Negan are so fun to write. I've been enjoying their interactions so much. Thanks for the support.

**HarveyHD **Thank you so much that's so kind of you to say!

* * *

_Thank you, **fandomismylife**,_ _for proofreading this chapter for me!_

* * *

By mid-morning, while people rested, recuperated, and waited, a few more had found their way to the rendezvous point and it was approaching the time to assume that those who hadn't yet arrived —like Alex, Bertie, Kal, Eduardo, and Brianna— were lost. People remained forcefully hopeful, though, and any suggestion otherwise was shot down before it could take root. Mary was still in and out of consciousness, but the fact she wasn't dead yet seemed promising enough for Enid and Siddiq to take a few hours of much needed rest.

Luke, too, had recovered enough to sit up and chat with Kelly, Yumiko, and Magna by the time the sun rose. He held Oliver's hand and touched their foreheads for several minutes as to thank him for his life, which Oliver thought was so sweet and miserable that he could've let himself fall in love with Luke for it, if he was foolish enough.

In the living room, while people ate a little food and drank a little water, plans began to form over what to do next.

The Whisperers had no Alpha. Negan wasn't an option anymore for them, and Beta would still need time to recuperate from the damage Enid and Kelly had caused him. It bought them some time. A few days. A few weeks. Who knew? They knew, at least, that it gave them enough time to regroup with the other communities and be ready for the next potential attack.

They planned to move to a nearby tower —a local hospital, before the Turn, now serving as a safe house for the four communities— where they would be able to radio Oceanside.

Then, as the discussion ended, Eugene stood up.

"Excuse me?" he said. "Erm. Can I have your kind attention, please?"

He swallowed and wrung his hands nervously as everybody turned their attention to him.

"I have some things I need to confess and request..." He took a steep breath. "I have been in radio communicat-o with someone outside our orbit. A new person who set up a time to meet with me."

"What?" Yumiko asked.

"Her name is Stephanie—"

"Wait, this is another community?" Magna asked.

"Where is it?" Jerry asked.

"What did you tell her about us?" Nabila asked.

"And now you're going to meet her?" Dianne asked.

"How do you know you can trust her?" Siddiq asked.

"What if she's another spy just like Dante," Enid said.

Eugene stuttered.

Rosita sighed. "Come on. Cut him some slack..."

"Eugene," Yumiko said, "how long have you been keeping this from us?"

"I have some of the same questions," Ezekiel said, "but if Eugene's instincts are that this... Stephanie... may be a new ally, then let's hear him out before we jump to conclusions. We're all on the same side here."

Eugene nodded, steeling himself. He talked about how he relocated to Hilltop for a fresh start, how he buried himself in his work up in the attic, and how one day Stephanie's voice came to him through his radio, and became his friend. "Some of you may think I'm foolish for believing in future friends and new alliances, but after everything we just lost, I am willing to be the fool."

He took another steep breath and looked around the room.

"In light of the extra time we've been given, I think it's a smart idea to try to get more friends in to help us, so, I am asking for some of you, three or four at least, to accompany me, to meet Stephanie, as a hopeful expectation of new good people as wholly worth the risk." He inhaled quickly like he'd ran out of air, looking around hopefully.

"I'm in," Oliver said. People turned to him with looks on their faces like they'd just watched him announce he'd grown a third nostril. He guessed he didn't seem the type to leave Virginia to them; not by land, at least. Feeling self-conscious, he pushed his hand in his pocket, eyes on the floor.

"Me, too," Yumiko said.

"As am I," Ezekiel said. He cast Oliver an earnest smile.

"Yeah, I'm in, too," Quan said.

Oliver raised his eyebrows at him. Quan glanced at him for a split second, then jumped when Papa Bear barked his name: "Quantavius Chamberlain."

"_Pop__s__!_" Quan complained, his cheeks turning a brilliant shade of burgundy, and despite Papa Bear's one eye being bandaged up, his other bore down into Quan fiercely, lips pursed sternly.

"Quantavius?" someone in the crowded room teased, and others giggled.

Quan tutted. "Oh, Lord..."

"Your burns," Papa Bear insisted, ignoring them.

"I'm not hurting so bad that I can't ride or fight," Quan said.

"Siddiq?" Papa Bear asked doubtfully.

Siddiq sighed and shrugged. "As your doctor, I wouldn't recommend it."

"You can't stop me though," Quan said. "I want to go. Pops, I gotta see what's out there."

Slowly, Papa Bear gripped the back of Quan's neck and touched their foreheads. He sighed and then he nodded. Siddiq huffed, relenting, too, and he and everyone else looked at Eugene, who was grinning.

"Then it is settled," he said excitedly, "the five of us are goin' to Charleston!"

* * *

The rendezvous house had extra saddles and supplies stashed away so they used them to ready their horses. Oliver groomed and saddled Traveller, Quan readied his chestnut mare, Clementine, Eugene to Enid's horse, Blondie, Yumiko had the cherry bay mare, Sunday, and Ezekiel had his stallion, Toby. Everyone in the house got ready to travel to the tower, except Papa Bear, who was outside hugging Quan goodbye. Carol came outside, too, and met Oliver. She wrapped her arms around him. He buried his chin into the crook of her neck.

"You should come with us," he told her.

"No..." She pulled away, glancing at the house. Daryl was still keeping watch over Negan. Yumiko, Kelly, and Magna were sitting on the porch, chatting. "I got stuff to do around here. People to try to make amends with."

"Maybe I should stay, too..."

Carol watched him. The corner of her mouth twitched up. Tears brewed in her eyes. "I wish you weren't going... but no, go. Eugene needs you more than we do. We have our plan. And you'll be back."

Oliver nodded gratefully.

"Hey, look after Ezekiel for me?" Carol asked him.

Oliver watched her, eyes narrowing. "Wait, are you two..."

"Mind yours and I'll mind mine," she said, and when Oliver frowned in confusion, she poked his chest and added, "Or I'll pry into your relationships."

"I don't have relationships anymore."

"Oh, really? Then I wont ask you why you disappeared inside the distillery yesterday for half an hour and came out wearing Quan's shoes?"

Oliver cleared his throat, then coughed. Was he choking?

"I'll look after Zeke," he said quickly, avoiding her eyes, "for _whatever_ reason."

"Thank you," Carol said.

Others came out to say goodbye to them all. Rosita hugged Oliver, and then Siddiq did, and Jerry, and Judith, and RJ, and Magna, and Luke. Enid's was the longest hug.

"Look after Blondie for me," she said.

"I promise," he told her. "I hope Mary gets through this."

Enid pulled away and looked at him for this intense moment until she nodded and said, "Yeah. I hope so, too."

As she stepped back, Papa Bear was still hugging Quan.

Oliver glanced across to Negan and Daryl sitting outside the house, watching them all. Negan nodded slowly, the bruise on his nose shining. Daryl squinted. Oliver went over to them on the porch. He pulled up the metal sheet he'd used to lug Luke around yesterday and retrieved Lucille from under it, then left the ugly bat propped on the steps beside Daryl's legs. As he stepped back again, Oliver caught Negan's eyes carefully.

Negan nodded.

Oliver didn't.

Daryl got up. As he hugged Oliver goodbye, he placed his hand gently to the back of Oliver's head and squeezed. It was a rare and sacred thing. Something he had only done to Oliver once before; when they'd found each other and everyone else outside of Terminus.

Oliver walked away and mounted Traveller's saddle. Everyone was ready now. As people waved and called out their farewells and well wishes, Oliver, Quan, Yumiko, and Ezekiel followed Eugene's lead through the woods and away from the run-down old house.

* * *

Charleston was directly west, at the south end of West Virginia, but due to the, now, several miles of overrun Hilltop territory coming from that direction, they were forced to take a longer route around them, north, through the south-west of Pennsylvania, to avoid any risk of being spotted by the horde, or worse, any Whisperers who might try to follow them. It would take them a day to make it to Pennsylvania, then another to get to Stephanie. She would be there on that second day, at sundown, and she wasn't going to wait around either.

The weather was clear and warm after last night's rain. They had little supplies; a dusty sleeping bag each, some moth-bitten blankets, water purifier tablets, some crockery, rope, and some non-perishables.

Oliver rode with one foot out of his stirrup to keep the strain off his lousy ankle. After several hours, they found themselves riding along a quiet road adjacent to a row of train tracks. There was a long, thick, raspberry bush between it and the fence and they were all reaching over their saddles to snatch any berries they could, fighting with their horses who were trying to sneak mouthfuls of long grass from the verge.

"Hey," Oliver said to Quan at some point. "Cool name, by the way: Quantavius."

Quan flipped him the bird.

Oliver grinned, and then his grin fell and he decided to tell Quan what had happened to Brandon. For a few minutes after finishing the story Negan had told him, Oliver watched Quan for his reaction. Quan didn't seem the dramatic sort, however, and simply squinted down at Clementine's chestnut mane until finally he nodded his head and looked at Oliver to say, "Appreciate you telling me."

Oliver nodded. "Sucks it went that way. I'm sorry."

"You don't need to be. It's me who should be sorry," Quan said bitterly. "I could'a stopped it. I should'a told someone about the nasty shit he'd sometimes tell me. I knew something was up. I just thought… I don't know…"

"Don't do that," Oliver said, solemnly. "The way he was… it was already there..."

Quan looked at him. His teeth were gritted.

"What Brandon did to that woman and her kid," Oliver told him, "it was his decision. Sometimes things just happen and there's no way anyone can stop it."

He thought about Tyreese, and Mika, and Lizzie, and the little cottage hidden away in the grove, all those years ago.

He told Quan, "Sometimes these things… these awful things... they go the way they had to, the way they were always going to."

Quan nodded, shrugging. "I get it: sometimes people can't change. But... sometimes we can still stop things like that from happening. It just depends on if you manage to act in time, like your friend: Enid."

Oliver thought about that. He didn't realise he was smiling until Eugene spoke from the front of their group of horses.

"Think they'll have candy?" he asked, glancing behind him to everyone. "Stephanie's community, I mean."

"What on Earth made you think of that?" Yumiko asked, snatching another berry and throwing it in her mouth.

"I was thinking of my mother," Eugene answered, "who grew up near a train track just like this. She was a pistol, as they say, so I was trying to remember something kind about her... and I settled on these chocolate bunnies she used to buy at Easter-time. They were delicious. Though, eating the heads did upset me as a child and... still, I came to associate them with family."

"Eugene, please tell me we aren't really on a journey to find chocolate bunnies," Yumiko said.

"Of course not," he replied seriously. The feather in his Stetson hat shook as he twisted his head to look at her. The long braid along his spine twisted over his shoulder. "We're on a journey for the future hope of mankind... but candy would be nice."

Yumiko laughed. Oliver and Quan, riding at the back, grinned or shook their heads. Eugene lapped this attention up, then glanced to Ezekiel and his stallion.

"Zeke, you okay?" he asked. "Or shall I delve into my arsenal of impressions?"

"Oddio..." Oliver said. "Please, no."

Quan snorted.

Ezekiel glanced at them all, frowning absently and then relaxing his face. "I'm sorry, Euge. I'm not the best audience at the moment."

Oliver watched him suspiciously, thinking of what Carol had told him. Why did she want Ezekiel to be looked after?

"Bloody Nora," Yumiko blurted.

Everyone looked ahead along the road. As they got closer, they saw a large cage on the side of the road with two walkers trapped inside. It was a snare. A bored looking pigeon sat on a perch out of reach, crooning as the five riders passed by. The walkers turned from the bird and reached for them instead. Blondie, Sunday, Clementine, and Traveller all threw their heads around, snorting and side-stepping across the road nervously. Toby however, forever the model Equus of calm and collect, simply watched the caged walkers evenly. The King, atop him, frowned at the dead, too.

"Whisperers?" Yumiko asked him, trying to sooth Sunday.

"Doesn't look like it," Quan said, encouraging Clementine on.

"So we're not alone," Ezekiel said.

"Were we ever?" Oliver asked, patting Traveller's dappled shoulder.

"Worth taking a quick look," Yumiko said.

"Could be a warning," Quan said, drawing his billhook machete.

"Could be," Yumiko said, "but will you sleep better knowing or not knowing?"

"Got a point."

They split into two groups. Eugene, Yumiko, and Quan took a look around the nearby woodland to the traps left, while Ezekiel and Oliver covered the area to its right, finding nothing but a handful of walkers in a small clearing. Oliver helped Ezekiel take them out. Two managed to slip past them. Oliver only noticed when he heard Toby squeal, and turned in time to see the horse kick one through the chest. Oliver ran over and bashed its skull in, then quickly took care of the other one. Ezekiel began coughing violently as he took the last walker down with his sword. He leaned against a tree trunk to catch his breath.

"You okay?" Oliver asked him.

"Yeah, yeah. Dust... in my throat, from the smoke the other night. You know."

Oliver did. He'd been taking his inhalers twice as much as usual since Hilltop fell. He held out a hand. Ezekiel took it and let Oliver pull him up.

They got on their horses.

"Hey, listen," Ezekiel said, "I wished to apologise, for the way I treated you all those months ago. It was wrong of me to ask you to leave Hilltop. I feel deeply guilty for making you feel unwelcome in your own home."

"Not my home anymore," Oliver said, shrugging. "It's burned to the ground."

Ezekiel dipped his head. He looked in pain.

Oliver sighed. He thought of Carol, so he put a hand on Ezekiel's shoulder. "It's alright, really. It doesn't matter anymore."

Ezekiel cast him a grateful nod, then Oliver helped him up into Toby's saddle. He and Oliver rode back towards the road to meet the others. Before they arrived, Ezekiel said, "I was so afraid during the fire, when the ceiling fell, and we thought we'd lost you. Daryl went in as soon as I told him you were in there. I don't know what Carol would have done if I'd lost you both."

_Both? _Oliver thought, then realised: _Henry..._

"Hey," Oliver said, "it wasn't on you. None of it. _You _didn't lose Henry..." He swallowed. He looked at his saddle, then looked across at Ezekiel. "And neither did I. It wasn't on anybody but them — the Whisperers."

With that, they rode on.

The others met them on the road by the traps a few minutes later.

"Clear?" Yumiko asked.

"A few walkers," Ezekiel answered. "We cleared it. You?"

"Same here. Let's get going."

* * *

They rode all day and finally made it into Pennsylvania territory by the late evening, where they found a place to stop for the night under a well-covered overpass. A corner of the city was in view if they stood at the edge of camp and peered through the trees. The skyscrapers reminded Oliver of Atlanta, and Grady, the hospital where he'd received his first bullet and blood transfusion. Carl was on his mind, as he often was, as Oliver unsaddled the horses in the dark and tethered them to graze on a grassy patch while the others set up a campsite and got a small fire going. Oliver was relieved to rest his lousy leg for a while. It wasn't hurting too badly but he knew it wouldn't take much more to set it off.

Oliver, Ezekiel, Quan, and Yumiko got some sleep while Eugene took first watch. Oliver slept well, and dreamt he was at the prison, wandering through the office blocks until he found the room that led out to the blown up parking lot, where Carl was sitting by the open door, waiting for him.

He woke up suddenly. The sun was barely glowing in the early, pale, navy, morning sky. Someone whispered his name. Quan, Oliver realised, when his eyes adjusted. He was out of his sleeping bag, his burned arm wrapped in clean bandage, and knelt by Oliver's side. Oliver glanced around. Nobody else was awake except for Ezekiel, on watch now, who hadn't noticed them.

"What is it?" Oliver whispered, and Quan shuffled a little. The firelight flickered in his eyes; blurry but still distinguishable to Oliver, without his glasses.

"What you said the other day, when we..." Quan hesitated. "Did you mean it?"

Oliver recalled their time in the distillery together; telling him, before and after, that it wasn't going to happen again.

So, gently, he nodded and said, "Yeah. I did."

Quan only paused a moment.

"Okay," he said, nodding.

And he didn't ask Oliver to justify his rejection, or try to convince him to change his mind. He didn't tell him he was embarrassed, or that he hadn't meant to bother him. He didn't even try to give some excuse as to why he wanted him, or thought Oliver might've wanted him back. He just let it go and went back to his own sleeping bag.

Oliver watched him go, then he laid back again, bringing his blanket up around his shoulders to trap his body heat inside. He tried to remember some of the peacefulness he'd felt from his dream, but it was fading too quickly, like a slipping handle he couldn't grasp hold of.

Glancing past the overpass they were camped under, he could see, above the city silhouette, the blurry clouds rolling across the dim dawn sky, tints of yellow and orange and indigo starting to glisten from where the sun would soon arrive.

Suddenly, a horse squealed, startling him.

Ezekiel suddenly rushed past the campfire, mumbling Toby's name. Oliver twisted around to see the horses, patting the ground for his glasses. He shoved them on his face and saw Ezekiel's stallion collapse to the ground in a writhing heap. The other horses backed out of his way. Everyone else was already jumping up and rushing over, too.

"What's going on, boy?" Ezekiel gasped out, knelt in the grass by the stallion's side.

Toby thrashed and moaned.

"Hey, Tobe. Hey! It's alright. It's alright, boy," Oliver said, knelt beside them, searching for what was wrong. Toby had frothy sweat around his muzzle and under his legs. His skin was hot under his jet-black fur. The whites of his eyes were shining, teeth bared in terror.

Yumiko and Quan settled the other horses. Eugene approached slowly, frowning in confusion.

"What's wrong, Tobe?" Oliver asked, soothing along his long neck and dodging his front hooves. "Zeke, what's happened?"

"I don't know, he was fine earlier. I..." Ezekiel's face fell suddenly. "Oh, no..."

Oliver saw the wound on Toby's rump, too. It was a single bite, and although animals didn't turn, they still died horribly from the infection. It hit fast, too. Toby was so exhausted already. He laid his tall head on Ezekiel's lap and groaned, all out of breath. Ezekiel stroked along his cheek and sobbed.

"Shh," he told him, drawing his knife, "it's okay. Nothing's gonna hurt anymore."

Helpless, Oliver sat back. Ezekiel looked at him, asking without words, and Oliver just shut his eyes and nodded.

"I'm sorry, Tobe..." Ezekiel said, and took a steep breath.

He drew his knife.

And sank it into the back of Toby's head.

The stallion gave a small squeal and a twitch, then went limp.

Everyone let the silence set in for several moments. Finally, Oliver gave another earnest nod to the dead horse before him, sniffed, and got up. He went and sat by the fire alone, crossing his elbows over his knees. Quan said his name but Oliver turned his head away, forcing the shake off his chin. He hated how he, still, after all these years, was the kind of man to cry over dead horses.

"Ezekiel," Yumiko said, kneeling before him and Toby's body. "I'm so sorry."

"I shouldn't have come."

"Why? This was just an accident."

"If I fall in there, in the city," Ezekiel said, "promise me you'll leave me behind."

Oliver looked up across the campfire at him, wiping his cheek on his shoulder.

"No," Yumiko answered. "That's not going to happen."

"He wasn't strong enough to make the journey," Ezekiel said. "Maybe I'm not either. I'm okay with that. But I'm not okay with putting you all at risk."

"So you want to turn back because of something that _might _happen?" Yumiko asked.

"Maybe it's for the best."

"Hey," Yumiko said. "None of us know what might happen. I had all these plans for my life. I clung to them so hard and for— for what? Even if you turn back now, there's no saying things will work out any better for you than if you'd kept going. I'm here to find out what's possible. We all are. And I think it's fair to say that we'll do a hell of a lot better if we have you with us."

Ezekiel huffed disbelievingly. "Why me?"

"Because you built yourself a Kingdom, Zeke," Yumiko answered, "in the bloody apocalypse."

Ezekiel smiled. He took her hand and she pulled him up. Eugene patted his shoulder. Quan pulled him in for a hug and patted his back firmly. Oliver watched them, pursing his lips.

"You should try and sleep," Quan told everyone. "I'll take last watch."

"No, we should get moving," Ezekiel said, sniffing. "Early bird gets the worm. In this case, early bird gets… well... Stephanie."

"He's correct," Eugene said. "We've made a lot of noise. No telling what heard us."

Yumiko nodded. "Sun's coming up anyway. Let's go."

After a moment of silence for his stallion, Ezekiel collected his belongings while the others saddled their horses. When ready, he climbed up onto Sunday's back, behind Yumiko, his arms around her waist. They rode up onto the overpass and scaled it towards the city, the rising sun warming their backs like some encouraging reminder to keep going.

* * *

**N****otes**

I lowkey ship Oliver and Luke but I'm not so self-indulgent as to make it happen. I hope the Oliver/Quan arc has been okay. They're officially just platonic from this point on. They were never more than friends (with benefits) anyway but I think Quan wanted them to be, but Oliver, for one, doesn't want to be shamed into hiding a relationship, and two, doesn't seem to want a relationship in the first place, so it wouldn't work either way imo. I don't think he has really gotten past the potential life he and Carl missed out on together, as sort of expressed in these last few chapters, and I still don't really know if he ever will. I think there was a moment during the fair when he thought he might be ready to, but moments pass. Also it's important for an upcoming chapter that Quan is shown accepting rejection.

So pumped for Princess. Been waiting so long.

As always,  
Happy reading.


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